SUMMARY:  After Rory's graduation from Chilton, Lorelai really does stop by Luke's diner and ask him not to get engaged while she's gone.  Written for sosmitten for the Lukesmut Fic-a-thon.

DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to ASP.

THANKS: To JeSouhaite47 for the beta and for running the ficathon, and to Em Meredith, as always, for the mad beta.

He should've gone after her.

He should've chased her down the street or driven to her house and pounded on the door until she explain what the hell she meant by telling him not to get engaged.  Instead, Luke had simply stood there in his darkened diner and watched her slip out, stunned into inaction.  By the time he'd convinced himself that she had, in fact, just barged into his diner and ordered him not to get engaged while she was gone, he hadn't been able to work up the courage to go after her.

Still, uncertainty and frustration kept him awake for hours, lying on his back glaring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell she could possibly have meant.  She'd had the strangest expression on her face, too, one he couldn't quite identify.  One that kept him from sleep until well past two in the morning, even though he had to get up at five-thirty.

When his alarm shrieked into his ear, he slapped at the button, unfathomably tired.  Then he remembered her request from the night before.  Don't get engaged.  He muttered an uncharitable comment under his breath and hauled himself out of bed, showering in a stupor because every time he closed his eyes, he saw the enigmatic look she'd given him when she instructed him not to propose to Nicole.

The implications ate at him as he stomped down to the diner to turn on the grill.  Lorelai couldn't possibly have meant what he thought she meant, he decided as he got the coffee going.  Lorelai was Lorelai -- brilliant, witty, and kind, but sometimes breathtakingly self-involved.  She'd probably just been thrown by the idea that the boring diner guy actually had a personal life.  Given their complicated and largely one-sided history, it shouldn't surprise him that she felt some sort of entitlement to him.

Despite his perfectly logical conclusion, Luke spent a ridiculous amount of time wondering if she'd come into the diner before she and Rory left for Europe.  He knew they were leaving in the afternoon, but he wasn't really clear on whether that meant that their flight left in the afternoon, or that they were leaving Stars Hollow in the afternoon.  He also wasn't really sure whether he wanted her to come in.  What could he possibly say to her?  How could he bring it up without asking her outright?

Plus, the more he dwelled on her befuddling statement, the angrier he grew.  She wanted him to stay single because -- why?  So her safe little world would remain the same and the guy she (sort of) flirted with (sometimes) would just keep on being her own personal food and coffee machine?  Luke swiped angrily at the countertop, nearly sending the sugar crashing to the floor.

"Good morning, Luke," Kirk greeted, oblivious as always to everything around him.  He slipped onto a stool and folded his hands on the countertop.  "What do you recommend today?"

Luke glared.  "Food."

Kirk nodded sagely.  "Any particular dish?"

"Whatever you want, Kirk," Luke answered through gritted teeth.  His temper wasn't great to begin with, and he'd had a trying evening and a sleepless night.

"Is there a special?" Kirk pressed, edging closer to being tossed bodily from the diner.

"Has there ever been a special?"

"Well, no," Kirk admitted.

"Then what do you think?"

"That there probably isn't a special today, either," Kirk answered obediently.  He brightened, pointing up at the wall.  "Except for what's on the blackboard up there," he continued, frowning at the object in question.  "That says special, but I can't remember it ever being changed, so it's really more of an extra menu item."

"Whatever, Kirk," Luke answered, impatient.  Once Kirk got sidetracked, it was difficult to coax him back to the original subject.  "Are you ordering or what?"

"I'm ordering!" Lorelai interjected cheerily.

Her presence was so sudden and unexpected that Luke blurted, "You're here," before he could stop himself.

"I'm always here," Lorelai shot back with a grin.  Beside her, Rory nodded her agreement.

"You're leaving for Europe today," Luke retorted, his tone flat.  Lorelai looked beautiful, of course, and unruffled and nothing like the woman who'd stopped in and confused the hell out of him the night before.  Immediately, he realized he would rather not have seen her today.  Not if she was going to act as if nothing had happened.

"Oui," Rory said, nudging her mother.  "Nous allons voyager au--"

"Café!" Lorelai interrupted, giving Luke her best pleading expression, actually batting her eyelashes in his direction.  "Please, Luke, have mercy on me and give me big, fat, rude, strong American coffee!"

She looked well-rested, Luke decided, feeling the fatigue settle more heavily into his muscles.  His temper flared.  "Coffee and...?" he prompted, his tone brusque.

Oblivious, Lorelai turned to Rory.  "What's American that we won't be able to eat for weeks and weeks?"

"Hamburgers?" Rory suggested with a shrug.

Luke grimaced.  "It's 9:40 in the morning."

"So?" Lorelai asked, eyes sparkling.

"No burgers."

"Spoilsport," Lorelai told him.

As always, Luke found himself drawn into their insane world.  "What about pancakes?" he suggested.

"Oooooh," Lorelai answered.  "Sweet and fattening!"

"Good call," Rory agreed, with an approving nod.

The entire situation frustrated him, and he folded his arms.  "Chocolate chip?" he guessed to enthusiastic agreement.  He stood there for a moment, barely curbing his desire to shout at her.  She was two feet away from him and acting like nothing happened and he couldn't even question her about it because Rory was there.

Lorelai's smile faltered a bit.  "Something wrong?"  Rory paused with her coffee mug halfway to her mouth, glancing back and forth between them.  Luke could feel the eyes of more than a few of his other customers on them as well, and his common sense warred with his desire to demand she explain herself.

As always, practicality won out.  "Nothing," Luke answered finally, turning away.

"Luke," Lorelai called after him.

Luke stopped and half-turned, raising his eyebrows expectantly.  "What?" he snapped, his tone much harsher than he'd intended.

For a moment, her forehead crinkled just a bit, and she looked concerned.  Then she, too, seemed to realize that they were making a spectacle of themselves.  After a quick glance around the diner, she gave him that same uncertain look as the night before, but this time she said only, "Never mind."

Never mind.  Luke's eyes narrowed, and he glared at her before stalking into the kitchen.  Never mind.  What was that supposed to mean?  Never mind that I came stomping into your diner last night and said things that make no sense?  Never mind that I made you think I might possibly have the tiniest bit of more-than-friends affection for you?  Never mind not getting engaged while I'm gone?

Luke elbowed Caesar out of the way, ignoring his squawks of protest, and made their damn chocolate chip pancakes.  Even with irritation coursing through him, he added an extra dollop of whip cream on both plates, and grabbed donuts with sprinkles before heading to their table.  "Here," he said, placing the plates down with a clatter.

"Thanks, Luke!" Rory answered, attacking the pancakes with her utensils.  Lorelai simply watched Luke, her expression inscrutable.

Luke shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the diner to keep from meeting her gaze.  "Anything else?"

"No, we're good," Lorelai answered, sounding a bit uncertain.

He suppressed the urge to say that no, they're really not good, because what the hell was she thinking telling him not to get engaged last night and then coming in here like nothing happened and leaving him confused while she jetted off to Europe with her daughter?  Being Luke, he simply jerked a nod and turned on his heel.

He'd just delivered plates to two elderly ladies in the corner when he felt a tap on his shoulder.  Rory stood just behind him, a small smile on her face.  "We're leaving."

Luke blinked.  "Oh," he answered, fighting panic and disappointment.  He glanced over her shoulder at Lorelai, half-expecting some sort of confrontation, half-wanting it, just so he would know where he stood while they were off gallivanting through Europe.  Lorelai simply stood there, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her jeans, looking like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Thanks for the pancakes," Rory told him.  Without further warning, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his midsection for a quick, unexpected hug.  "We'll miss you."

Patting her back awkwardly, Luke couldn't answer her aloud.  He locked eyes with Lorelai, who was watching them with the tiniest of smiles.  Rory pulled back and gave him an impish look.  "That is how you hug someone."

Before he could reply, Lorelai stepped closer, leaned up, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  "Ciao, ciao," she told him, remaining well within his personal space, her hand resting against his bicep.  "Apparently that's how they do it in Europe."

"Oh," Luke answered stupidly, his hands fisted by his thighs because he really, really wanted to touch her.  And he honestly wasn't sure whether he'd throttle her or kiss her.  Probably indulging either desire would end badly.

"Hey, Luke?" Lorelai asked.  Her eyes were startlingly blue up close, and he would swear that his cheek was on fire where she'd pressed her lips against his skin.

Luke told himself to concentrate.  "Yeah?"  Man, he sounded stupid.  His voice came out all strangled.

Lorelai favored him with one of those full, blinding smiles.  "Don't change anything while we're gone."  She paused, her hand squeezing his arm gently.  "Okay?"

"Okay," he answered, and they were already at the door before he managed to add, "Be safe."

Lorelai held the door for Rory and glanced back at him, giving him a little wave before she pulled the door shut behind her.

***

***

When Kirk sauntered in with the mailbag slung over one narrow shoulder, he nodded curtly, handed Luke a stack of mail, and commented, "Lorelai seems to be enjoying Portugal."

"What?" Luke snapped, tossing the mail onto the counter behind him.  "More coffee?" he asked Miss Patty, who shook her head no and leaned closer to Kirk to be able to hear everything more clearly.

"Portugal," Kirk repeated, as if that were the important part of his statement.

"How do you know Lorelai's in Portugal?" Luke demanded, wishing for once in his life that he was plugged into the town gossip network.  He had no idea where Lorelai and Rory were, other than Europe.  They had no set plans, and he certainly hadn't heard from them, though he supposed Lorelai was calling Sookie occasionally to check in.

Kirk pointed at the haphazard stack of mail.  "She said that Madeira was lovely and that she and Rory are considering the topless beach."

Luke blinked, momentarily rendered speechless by the mental imagery.  Then the implication of Kirk's words registered -- she'd written to him?

Miss Patty waggled her eyebrows at Luke.  "Oooh, la, la!  I knew that girl would enjoy Europe."

Luke recovered the ability to speak, glowering at Kirk.  "You read my mail?" he shouted, channeling his embarrassment into anger as he turned to rifle through the pile.

"It's a postcard," Kirk answered.

Luke ignored his irrational disappointment that she'd only sent a postcard -- after all, it's not like Lorelai and he had ever written each other letters before -- and thumbed through the stack.  The glossy postcard was wedged between Fish & Stream and a bill from his meat vendor.  "Isn't it a federal crime for you to read my mail?" Luke grumbled as he scanned the shot of miles and miles of rocky coastline.  He ignored Miss Patty's hawkish look and Kirk's babbles about Portuguese and Brazil as he flipped the postcard over.

Lorelai had addressed it to "Mr. Lucas 'Butch' Danes, Coffee Maker Extraordinaire," then added in small, squashed letters, "Now I'm picturing a black plastic Mr. Coffee with a backwards baseball cap."  Luke smirked a little at the thought.

Miss Patty leaned over the countertop.  "What's it say, sweetie?"

"She's in Portugal," Luke answered, edging away.  "Caesar, I'll be right back."

"Aww, he has to run off and read his love letter," Miss Patty told Kirk.

Luke stopped short and turned to glare at Miss Patty.  "This is not a love letter.  It is a simple postcard from a friend who is on an extended vacation.  And I am going to the storeroom for more pickles."

"Methinks he doth protest too much," Kirk opined.  When Luke shifted his attention, Kirk quickly backed toward the door.  "On the other hand, what Lorelai wrote is completely innocent and -- Oh, look at the time."

Luke stalked into the back, accompanied by Miss Patty's laughter and the sound of the bell over the door.  He closed the storeroom door behind him and leaned against the ancient cigarette machine, turning the postcard over to read it.

"Luke," Lorelai had written, "I don't suppose you'd ship your coffee to Amsterdam for us, but we really miss you.  (And your coffee.)  Backpacking is a lot of work.  Rory has been in charge of museums and communicating in French, Spanish and Italian.  I'm in charge of whining and charming extra food from flirty Italian waiters.  The hostels are hit or miss, but we're both impressively tanned, save these obnoxious white patches where the backpacks sit.  I saw a sign for a topless beach (or possibly a turtle sanctuary) today, so we might remedy our tan issues later...  Wish you were here!  Lorelai."

Rory's much neater handwriting was squashed into a corner.  "Hi, Luke.  Miss you.  Love, Rory."

He read it again, more slowly this time.  So Lorelai missed him.  Interesting.  She was touring Europe with her daughter, but still found the time to send him a postcard.  He shifted his weight, feeling bashful even though no one was there to see him grinning stupidly at the postcard in his hands.

The third time he read her note, he searched for any reference, however oblique, to her odd request that he not get engaged while she was gone.  Not surprisingly, he found nothing that would so much as suggest that he hadn't dreamed up that particular conversation.  Come to think of it, the more time passed since that night, the more Luke doubted that she'd ever shown up at his diner to urge him to remain single.

After all, she'd never really shown any interest in him before.  She'd flirted, of course, but this was Lorelai -- she flirted with everyone.  It was absurd for him to believe that she'd suddenly realized some sort of undying affection for him.  And if she had, well, he would've hoped she'd leave him with more than some vague request not to get engaged.

In fact, the more he thought about her showing up, dropping that particular bomb on him, and then flying off to Europe, the angrier he got.  He badly wanted her to waltz into the diner begging for coffee just so he could pull her into the storeroom and demand to know what she was thinking.  But of course he couldn't do that.  He couldn't even call her, since the itinerary she'd left with Sookie and Babbette and Luke said simply:  "June-August:  Europe, baby!"

Muttering obscenities under his breath about her utter lack of anything resembling common sense, Luke tapped the thick paper against his palm, staring at her familiar handwriting.  Grabbing a jar of pickles from the shelf, Luke headed back out into the main room of the diner, pausing near the phone to tack her postcard to the wall.  That way, he'd see the picture of Madeira every time he went into the kitchen.  He wasn't sure whether he was posting the thing to torture himself, or to remind himself that despite her lack of romantic interest in him, she did actually care for him.

As irritated as he got whenever he let himself think about that bizarre request of hers, he couldn't deny that receiving a postcard made him feel ridiculously good.  Like maybe he played an important role in her life after all.  Probably that role was approximately the same as it had always been, regardless of her pre-vacation visit.  Luke was her friend, and that was just going to have to be good enough.

And he would damn well forget about Lorelai's little request.  He'd obviously misinterpreted her.

So resolved, Luke cracked open the jar of pickles and fished one out, dumping it unceremoniously onto the edge of Andrew's plate.  "Pickle," he said, grabbing his order pad from his waistband to total up Andrew's check.

"Lorelai wrote to you, huh?" Miss Patty asked, her tone suggestive.

Luke glanced up briefly.  "She sent a postcard," he corrected, ripping the check free and slapping it onto the counter in front of Andrew.

With a knowing look, Miss Patty nodded slowly and stood, slinging her oversized bag over her shoulder.  She strolled across the diner, humming something under her breath.  Luke was not at all surprised when Miss Patty paused in the doorway to proclaim, "Absence does make the heart grow fonder."

Luke simply glowered at her, ignoring her ringing laughter as she pulled the door shut behind her.

***

***

Luke parked his truck behind Lorelai's jeep, wishing for approximately the thousandth time that she'd thought to leave the keys with someone.  After sitting for two months, damn thing probably wouldn't start when she got back.  Luke had tried to persuade Gypsy to help him pop the lock, but she'd pointed out that getting into the jeep wouldn't enable them to start it without keys.  Luke could hotwire it, of course, but he didn't think Lorelai would appreciate having her steering wheel casing ripped out when she returned.

He stepped out into the midsummer heat and immediately started sweating.  The summer had been brutal so far, and while he missed Lorelai with a fierceness that surprised him, he was glad for her sake that she and Rory were missing this unrelenting humid heat.

"Morning, Luke," Babbette chirped, wandering over from her yard.

"Oh, hey, Babbette."  Luke pulled his toolbox (and, yes, he'd started thinking of it as "Bert," damn Lorelai to hell) from the truck bed.

"Whatcha doing, sweetie?" Babbette asked, cradling one of her hideous gnomes.  Apparently, she'd dressed Pierpont up for the Fourth of July and was only now bothering to strip him of his red, white, and blue top hat and matching vest.  Luke couldn't look directly at the gnome.

Averting his eyes, he gestured vaguely in the direction of the door.  "Just checking on the house."

Babbette looked like she wanted to tackle him, and Luke instinctively backed up a step.  "Awww," she cooed.  "You miss Lorelai, doncha?"

"I'm just cleaning the gutters," he answered somewhat defensively.  He held up the toolbox for emphasis.

Babbette raised her eyebrows at him.  "If me and Morey go away, are you gonna come clean our gutters?"

Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like a teenager again.  "Sure, Babbette," he answered with a shrug.

"That girl is blind," Babbette murmured.  Before Luke could muster an appropriately evasive response, she threw her hands into the air.  "Oh!  You want some lemonade, sweetie?"

Experience suggested he'd be better off refusing, but Luke found himself answering, "Why not?"  If anything, maybe it'd get her off the subject of Lorelai.  The absolute last thing Luke wanted to do was discuss Lorelai with anyone.  (Save Lorelai, of course, but she was somewhere in Western Europe without a damn phone, so he'd have to wait.)

Babbette moved surprisingly fast, reappearing with a bright orange mug (and, thankfully, without Pierpont) by the time Luke had the ladder set up against the side of the house.  "Here you go," she told him, practically clapping her hands together in glee.

"Thanks."  Luke accepted the garish cat mug and managed to suppress the urge to ask when she'd beheaded Garfield.  With his first, foolhardy sip, Luke learned that Babbette's lemonade was made with the less well-known mix of lemon juice, sugar, water, and a healthy shot of vodka.  "Wow," he spluttered, coughing a bit as it burned all the way down.

Babbette laughed.  "Should warm you right up."

"It's 92 degrees out here," Luke pointed out, squinting up at the cloudless sky.  The sun was so bright he was tempted to turn his cap around and wear it properly.  "And humid."  He tugged at the neck of his t-shirt, pulling the damp cotton away from his skin.

"I know, but if you're overheated, you might take off your shirt while you're up there working," Babbette answered, waggling her eyebrows at him.

"Geez," Luke muttered, and took another hit of the vodka-lemonade.

"What?" Babbette demanded brashly.  "You got nice guns, Luke," she said, eyeing his forearms.  "You oughta show 'em off a little."

He grimaced.  "I'll keep that in mind.  Thanks for the drink.  I'll be on the roof."

"No problem," Babbette answered.  "You just come on over if you'd like a refill," she told him as she turned to go.  "And consider the shirt thing."

Luke rolled his eyes and placed the hideous cat mug on the porch when she was out of sight.  He climbed the ladder, and only when he'd reached the relative sanctity of the roof did he pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

He was lying flat on the hot, scratchy roof, digging leaves and sticks from the gutter along the side of the house when he heard a car pull up.  It was irrational, but he perked up immediately, thinking maybe the Gilmores had come home early.  He told himself he was being stupid, but he still peeled off his work gloves and walked carefully around to the front of the house.

Sookie stood at the mailbox, collecting envelopes and magazines.

Luke yanked on his t-shirt, ignored his disappointment and called, "Hey, Sookie."

Shrieking, Sookie whirled around in a rainstorm of junk mail.  "Luke," she yelped as she located him and moved closer to the house, stepping all over Lorelai's fallen mail in the process.  She pressed one hand to her heart and pointed accusingly at him with the other.  "Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"I'm 30 feet away from you," Luke observed acerbically.  "And on the roof."

"I didn't know you were here," she countered.

"You parked behind my truck," Luke noted as he stepped onto the top rung of the ladder.

"Well..."  Sookie stared at him, eyes narrowing.  "What are you doing on Lorelai's roof half-dressed?"

Luke nearly fell off the ladder.  "I'm not half-dressed," he protested, tugging at his sweat-soaked t-shirt for emphasis.  If Sookie hadn't been so startled by his presence, he'd have thought Babbette broke out the binoculars and called Miss Patty.

"Half-dressed for you," Sookie amended, eyeing him speculatively.  "You wear flannel even in the summer, and there you are with your arms -- you have a tattoo?"

"Yes, I have a tattoo," Luke confirmed, wishing he hadn't worn the t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.  "What are you doing here?"

"Oh!"  Sookie turned, remembering the mail, and crouched down to gather to scattered pieced.  "I'm collecting their mail.  Lorelai left me some money to pay their bills, so--"

"Ah," Luke interjected, knowing she'd likely keep talking if uninterrupted.  She was still flustered, and a flustered Sookie was a verbose Sookie.  He knelt down and gathered some stray envelopes.

"What are you doing here?" Sookie asked, her gaze straying again to his tattoo.

"Cleaning the gutters."

"Lorelai asked you to clean her gutters?" Sookie asked, frowning a bit.  "She must've promised to bring you back something amazing.  She said she'd bring me Johnny Depp and all I'm doing is putting her mail in a pile.  Well, I'm putting it in a basket.  And I did sort it into categories -- you know, junk mail, credit card offers, solicitations from the Feminist Majority--"

"Sookie."

"Right.  Sorry."  With an apologetic smile, she accepted the last few pieces of mail from Luke.  "Thanks."

"No problem."

Sookie studied him for a moment, comprehension dawning.  "She didn't ask you to clean her gutters."  She glanced around, scanning the Gilmore house with a critical eye.  "Or mow her lawn."

"I'm just keeping tabs on the place," Luke dissembled.  "Making sure it doesn't look abandoned.  Criminals look for that sort of thing."

"Of course," Sookie agreed, nodding wisely.  "And Stars Hollow is a hotbed of criminal activity."

"It's not a big deal," Luke insisted.  "I'm just making sure the house doesn't fall down while she's gone."

"Uh-huh."  Sookie sounded skeptical, but didn't pursue the subject.  After an awkward moment, she said, "They're in Tuscany."

"What?" Luke asked, a little thrown by the abrupt subject change.

"Lorelai and Rory are in Tuscany.  Were in Tuscany.  They might be in Florence by now.  What time is it in Italy?"

"Lorelai called you," Luke surmised, ignoring the hollow ache.  She'd sent him a dozen postcards, but she'd called Sookie.

"Yesterday," Sookie confirmed, grinning.  "She got one of those crazy European cellphones with a certain number of minutes on it and -- Oh, they're having such an amazing time!"

"Good," Luke answered, and he actually meant it.  He wanted them to have an amazing summer.  He really did.  He just wished they could've had their amazing summer without leaving Stars Hollow.  Or, if they really had to leave, he wished that she'd called him while she was gone.

"Yeah," Sookie agreed, launching into a story about a cat sanctuary, ancient pagan ruins, and a misplaced cup of gelato.  "Isn't that so funny?"

Luke nodded, arms crossed.  "Very funny," he answered flatly.

Sookie's giddiness faded.  "Yeah."

Luke hooked a thumb toward the house.  "I should really--"

"Are you still dating Nicole?"

Luke froze, eyes wide.  "Excuse me?"

"I just--"

"Did Lorelai tell you to ask me that?"

"What?"  Sookie shook her head, looking bewildered.  "Luke, no.  She just--"

"Oh, that's perfect," he muttered, hands on his hips as he paced in a tight little circle.  "Even from thousands of miles away she's interfering."

"Interfering?"  Sookie looked bewildered.  "Luke, I have no idea what you're talking about.  Lorelai just asked how you were doing, and--"

"And whether I was still dating Nicole," Luke interrupted, nodding angrily.  He wasn't, but he hadn't exactly advertised that fact around town.  Nicole had (correctly, though he'd refused to admit it) attributed his lingering bad mood to Lorelai's absence and had (again, correctly) drawn some conclusions.  The impressive stack of postcards she'd found on his counter hadn't helped.  He'd argued with Nicole, mostly to keep his own self-delusions intact, but she'd ended things.

"No," Sookie answered.  "I wondered that."

He stopped, tilting his head as he stared at her.  "Why?" he demanded.

Sookie looked like she'd rather be pretty much anywhere else, but she took a deep breath and said, "Well, you've been a little..."  She twirled her free hand in the air a bit.  "Cranky lately.  More cranky than usual, I mean.  I wasn't sure if it was because you miss Lorelai or if something had happened with Nicole or," she shrugged, "maybe both."

Luke digested her statement for a moment, then pointed at the house.  "I'm gonna go clean some gutters."  She was right; he had been cranky lately.  He'd been pissed at himself for hurting someone like Nicole, pissed at Lorelai for hinting the way she did and then running away the way she always did, and mostly pissed at himself for letting Lorelai get to him.  He should know better by now, and he'd resolved to tell her he wasn't her damn puppet as soon as he talked to her.

Of course, he couldn't talk to her until she either called him or got back from Europe, and his relative helplessness rankled.  It didn't help his disposition to get a postcard every couple of days, because no matter how firm his resolve to put her out of his mind for the rest of the summer, he always brightened at the sight of a glossy photo of some European tourist attraction and his name in her messy handwriting.

One of these days, he would get her out of his system, Luke told himself, even as he climbed back onto the roof to resume cleaning her gutters.

"Luke," Sookie said, "wait--"

"Tell her I'm fine if she asks," he ordered.  "Tell her the house is taken care of."

"Luke, wait a second."  She stopped at the foot of the ladder and glared up at him.  "You're overreacting."

"I have work to do, Sookie."

"The phone ran out of minutes," Sookie called.  "She said she was going to call you next."

Luke paused, his back to Sookie.  He really had no idea what to say about any of it anymore.  Lorelai had dropped that bombshell on him then run away.  And while he didn't even know for sure why she'd said what she'd said, in Lorelai's history of running away from the hard stuff, she'd never run quite so far or been so effectively cut off.  Postcard after frustrating postcard, she gave him little snippets of herself, truncated vignettes that simply whetted his appetite.  And underneath the anger and the bitterness and the stubborn, stupid hope, he was sick of it.

"Whatever," he answered finally, not even sure he'd spoken loudly enough for Sookie to hear him.

"She misses you, Luke," Sookie said.  "And not just your coffee."

He didn't answer, and she got into her minivan and drove away.  Luke simply sat on the roof of Lorelai's house for a while, staring into space.

***

***

"Luke."

He glanced at the diner door on his way past.  "Hey, Lane.  No tables, but there's room at the counter."

"Great," Lane said, trailing him as he delivered three plates.  "But I really--"

"Luke!" Caesar hollered.  "Food's up!"

Shaking his head, Luke stalked around the counter and leaned into the pass-through.  "Quit shouting, would you?"

"The food's backing up," Caesar answered with a pointed glance at the plates awaiting distribution.  "I can only do so much from back here."

"Luke," Lane tried again, sounding a little desperate.  "Listen, I--"

"Just cook the food," Luke ordered Caesar, adding a few epithets under his breath as he piled plates along his arm.  He scanned the waiting table and grimaced.  "Lane, grab that coffee pot, would you?"

"Sure," she answered, scrambling around the counter to do as he'd asked.

Luke made it to the table and began dealing food.  "Here you go."

With an uncertain look, Lane glanced at him before giving the customers a bright smile.  "Coffee?"

Luke touched her shoulder on his way back to the kitchen.  "Thanks."  He grabbed more plates and turned, stopping short when he realized Lane was standing right there.  "Geez!"

"Luke, I'm sorry I didn't ask before, but I didn't know," she said, speaking quickly, her hands dancing nervously in the air.

He edged past.  "Didn't know what?" he asked, only half-listening.  As he plopped the plates down before a tourist couple in tacky t-shirts and fanny packs, the phone began to ring.

"Oh, no," Lane muttered, sticking to him like a burr as he rounded the edge of the counter.  "See, Rory can't call me at home because Mama Kim has time limits on all phone calls, so she sent me a postcard -- Rory did, not my mother -- but she sent it to her house so Mama Kim wouldn't intercept it and see the thing about the phone call, and since Sookie's taking in their mail, I didn't actually get the postcard until today so I didn't know the time and date, and I was supposed to ask you--"

Luke held up a hand for silence.  "One second," he told her as he grabbed the phone.

"No, Luke--"

"Luke's," he answered, playing the part of a human lazy Susan, shuttling plates from the pass-through to the counter, the phone wedged against his shoulder.

The line crackled a little, and then Rory said, "Luke!  Hi!  It's Rory.  How are you?"

Grinning a little, Luke said, "Rory?  Are you guys back?"  He glanced at Lane, who was standing with her hands to her mouth, watching him fearfully.

"We're in London," Rory answered.  "Didn't Lane tell you?"

Lane's worried look shifted into a tentative smile as he watched.  "She was trying to tell me something.  So, London, huh?" he asked, a little disappointed.  When the hell were they coming home anyway?  It seemed like they'd been gone forever.

"It's amazing," Rory answered, awe audible in her voice.  "Little foggy, but that's to be expected."

"Sounds fun," he answered, ignoring Caesar's frantic gestures.  Luke leaned against the doorframe, content to let the diner fall down around him if that's what it took to finally, finally talk to Lorelai.

"It is," Rory assured him.  "Really, really fun."

"How's your mother?" Luke asked as Caesar threw up his hands in despair and started bringing plates out himself.

"A little too good at the moment."

Luke frowned.  "What's that mean?"

"She was so overjoyed to be back in a land where they speak the King's English that she went a little overboard on the black-and-tans.  She's asleep."

"Oh," Luke answered, trying very hard not to sound disappointed.  It was all starting to make sense, now.  They hadn't called for him.  Lorelai wasn't even conscious on the other end of the line.  Rory was calling for Lane.  He swallowed his bitterness.  "Make sure she drinks a lot of water," Luke told Rory.  "And stay safe.  Here's Lane."

"Bye, Luke," Rory said.

Lane squealed as she took the phone, holding it tightly to her ear.  "Rory?"

Luke grabbed several more plates and delivered them, trying not to listen to Lane's conversation with Rory.  He was done, he decided.  Done agonizing over her stupid request.  Done reading her frustrating postcards.  Done worrying about the whole damn thing while she was hiding out in Europe.  If she wanted to call, she obviously would have called, and so that was that.

When she came back, he would give her a piece of his mind.  He would explain to her that it just wasn't right to lift someone's hopes up and then run away.  It just wasn't right to send postcards that say one thing and seem like they may say other things, too, when you can't be reached for clarification.  But until she got back, he would put the entire thing out of his mind and just worry about his diner and Taylor's stupid town meetings.

Luke glanced around at the diner and made sure no one was in desperate need of French fries or coffee.  Then he retreated behind the counter, slipping past Lane and into the kitchen.  "Caesar," he said, "do me a favor and work the front for a bit."

Taken aback, Caesar indicated the grill.  "But," he sputtered, "but there's food--"

"I'll cook," Luke interrupted, focusing his attention on the burgers as Caesar reluctantly headed out of the kitchen.  Luke reached over and turned up Caesar's horrible music until Lane's squeals were drowned out completely.

***

***

The late afternoon sun streamed in through the windows at the diner, but Luke wasn't paying much attention.  There were only a couple of customers, and he used the lull to tally up receipts from the lunch crowd and get ready for the dinner crowd.  When the bell rang, he didn't even look up, just kept on adding numbers with a simple number two pencil and a pad of paper.

"Coffee!"

Luke froze, not quite believing she could actually be here.  He lifted his head, eyes wide, and she was there, grinning madly.  "Lorelai," he stammered.  She was tanned and beautiful and her hair was falling down her back in wild curls and she was wearing a red tank top that clung to her curves and she was just breathtaking.  "Hi," he managed.

Rory straggled in, looking half-asleep, and waved listlessly.  "Hey, Luke," she greeted, leaning heavily against her mother.

"Rory.  You're back."

Lorelai stood at the counter, her fingernails tapping nervously against the surface.  "Yes.  We're back.  Just back, actually, and jet lag is evil, and can we please, please have coffee before we keel over?"

"Of course."  Luke sprang into action, grabbing the pot and two mugs, setting them down as Lorelai urged her daughter to sit.

"Stools are bad," Rory grumbled, listing sideways.  She grabbed onto the counter to avoid falling over completely.

Laughing, Lorelai turned her daughter around and gave her a little push.  "Sit at a table then, hon.  I'll be right there."

Luke poured the coffee, desperately searching for something to say.  "Here."  He shoved the mug toward her, amazed to find that his hands were actually shaking.

"Thanks."  Lorelai gave him that broad, sunny smile again, then lifted the mug to her lips.  She took a small sip, moaned in a truly suggestive way, and then chugged about half the mug's contents.  "Oh, my God," she whimpered, holding his gaze.  "I missed this."

Stymied, Luke dipped his chin.  "But you had a good time."

"Oh, yes.  It was amazing."  She looked a bit puzzled, her smile fading.  "Didn't you get my postcards?"

"I did," he answered quickly, his gaze faltering.  She'd written things that seemed suggestive, that seemed intimate, and now she was bringing it up, and as much as he told himself he was going to confront her when she got back, he wasn't ready for this.  As it turned out, the anger and frustration he'd been feeling all summer melted away, leaving him with just uncertainty.  "I got them."

"Oh."  Lorelai studied him.  "So," she ventured, "did anything exciting happen while we were away?"

His chest felt tight.  "No," he answered, unable to elaborate.  She could be asking about Nicole, but she could also just be wondering whether Taylor declared himself Town Emperor while she was gone.

"Nothing?" she pressed.

"Nothing," he confirmed, turning his attention to the countertop.  He grabbed a rag and swiped at an imaginary spot.

"Okay."  Lorelai half-turned on her stool.  Luke followed her gaze to Rory, who'd cradled her head in her arms and appeared to be asleep.

"I cleaned your gutters," Luke blurted, grimacing almost as soon as the words left his mouth.  What the hell was he talking about?

"You did?" Lorelai asked, turning back to him with a half-smile.  "Thank you.  That was sweet."

He shrugged, twisting the rag in his hands.  "No problem.  Your car probably won't start."

She looked bewildered, shaking her head just a little as she asked, "What?"

"The jeep," he clarified.  "It's been sitting for almost three months, so it probably won't start right away.  You should've left the keys with someone."

"You're probably right," she admitted, her tone soft.  She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, her shoulders hunched.  "I'll have Gypsy look at it if it's a problem."

"I can jump it for you," Luke offered gruffly.  "Just call me if you have trouble."  He had all of these things he wanted to say to her, but every time he opened his mouth, he said something completely unimportant.

"Okay," Lorelai answered, sounding uncertain.  She sipped at her coffee, her gaze skittering away from him.  He could tell from the set of her shoulders that she was uncomfortable.

The silence in the diner quickly became oppressive, and Luke struggled for something to say.  It was weird to be with her again after such a long absence, weirder still to be talking to her after receiving postcards every few days.

Before he could come up with anything to say, Lorelai set her mug down and slid off the stool.  "I should really get her home," she said, her tone apologetic.  "She did this when we got to Europe, too."

"Jet lag, huh?" Luke asked inanely.

"Yeah," Lorelai agreed.

They stood there, staring at each other over the vast expanse of the counter, until Lorelai gave him a crooked smile.  "Thanks for the coffee."

"Sure," he answered stupidly, biting back a bitter "that's what I'm here for."

Like three months earlier, he watched her walk out and told himself he should go after her.  Like three months earlier, he wasn't sure he had the courage to begin the conversation, so he simply stood in his diner and fumed, unsure whether he was mad at himself or at her.

***

***

After grimacing and growling his way through the evening, Luke locked the door behind his last customer and flipped the sign to "closed."  Slowly and methodically, he circled the diner and drew the blinds.  He'd sent Caesar home already, and most of the side work was done, so he retreated behind the counter and gathered the sugar containers to refill.

The last thing he was expecting was a knock on the door.  Still, he knew immediately who it was, and he considered not answering.  But he'd never been able to say no to her, so he rounded the counter and crossed to the door, flipping the lock and yanking it open.

"Hi," Lorelai said, holding her purse against her chest like a shield.  "Rory's out cold, but I'm way too tired to sleep.  I need coffee and I thought maybe you'd still have some on."

"I don't."  It was supposed to sound like a dismissal, but he found himself holding the door open for her to slip inside.  "I can make some," he relented.

"You really are a god," she told him, trailing him over to the counter.  Instead of taking a seat on one of the stools, she moved to the end of the counter and leaned against it, watching him as he grabbed a coffee filter.  He gave her an odd look, but she simply smiled at him and said, "Seriously.  I told Rory I would erect a small altar in your honor and leave packets of sugar as offerings."

Luke grunted a response, concentrating on the familiar task of measuring coffee grounds.  He heard rustling behind him, but didn't turn as she chattered on.  He knew he should be figuring out what, exactly, he wanted to say to her, but he'd missed her, even her rambling, pointless stories, and he couldn't stop himself from paying attention.

"We had this whole bit going by the time we left Portugal," Lorelai continued.  "Every time we had coffee -- and you know us, so you know we had coffee a lot -- we would rate it on a scale of 1-5, and then we got the idea to use sugar packets, with five of course being the best, because sweeter is always better.  Your coffee, incidentally, is to date the only coffee to achieve the full five sugar packets, though the Starbucks at JFK did rate a four-and-a-half, which is probably due more to our state of mind than the coffee itself.  To give you an idea of the awful coffee we were forced to consume, the highest grade we gave the entire time we were in Europe was three sugar packets."

He flipped the switch to start the coffee, but didn't turn around.  Her little anecdote sounded a hell of a lot like one of her postcards, and that just upped his irritation.  He wanted her to explain herself, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't.  Maybe that's what had been bothering him all damn summer -- he needed answers, and he knew he'd never get them, whether she was in Europe or Stars Hollow.

"So then," Lorelai rambled on, "we started collecting the sugar packets for each rating -- you know, if we found a place that served two-packet coffee, we'd take two packets, which, of course, presented a problem if we rated something two-and-a-half, so we decided to round up half-packets, purely for the sake of the packet-taking, not for the actual rating itself.  Anyway, we ended up with a ton of sugar packets to leave at your altar, except that I didn't actually make the altar, because that seemed a little creepy--"

"Lorelai!" he exploded, whirling around to face her.  "I don't -- What the hell is that?" he asked, frowning at the countertop.

Wide-eyed, Lorelai answered, "The sugar packets."  She dropped the last handful on top of the pile, and steadied one bright pink packet that started to slide down the side.  They towered over the salt and pepper shakers, nearly reaching the top of the ketchup bottle.

Dumbfounded, Luke stared at the impressive collection.  "You brought me sugar packets."

"Well..."  Lorelai shrugged, setting her purse down beside the cash register.  "Yes.  It just sort of evolved.  I didn't really intend to give them to you as a present or anything," she explained, her words tumbling over each other.  "I just thought you'd appreciate the story, and since I had the sugar packets in my bag, I figured--"

"You'd give me sugar packets," he concluded, his tone flat.  He had no idea what to make of her story.

Lorelai reached forward, fussing with the packets near the top.  "I think it was technically a felony bringing these back into the States because we didn't declare them -- can you imagine the declarations form?  Rory was all twitchy around the customs guy because, well, smuggling white powder into the U.S. is probably a pretty bad idea.  She was really worried about the drug dogs, but I told her that drug dogs are trained to sniff drugs, not sugar, but then she went on and on about how the dogs are actually trained to find stuff like coffee that has a strong scent and could mask the drugs, and--"  Lorelai shifted, watching him nervously.  "Why are you staring at me?"

Tilting his head to one side, Luke asked, "You smuggled sugar into the country from Europe?"

"Yes."

"Sugar that was probably grown in Florida and then exported to Europe."

"I guess."

"And you smuggled it into the country for me?"

"I brought you other things," Lorelai answered, crossing her arms.  Her words had an edge to them now, as if she were starting to get irritated with him.  As if she had a right to be irritated with him.  Luke stared at her, incredulous as she shrugged and added, "I haven't unpacked yet."

He threw his hands into the air.  "I don't care, Lorelai.  You sent me postcards."

Eyes narrowing, she studied him.  "I know I did."

"You sent me postcards, and you never once called me," he thundered.  "It's been months, Lorelai.  Months since you came waltzing in here and told me not to get engaged -- as if that's any of your damn business -- and then went radio silent.  And don't talk to me about overseas calls, because you called Sookie and Rory called Lane, so it's not like you flew to Europe and forgot how to use a phone!"

"Luke--"

He waved her off.  "And I couldn't call you, because you weren't even staying in hotels or following any sort of plan of which countries to visit in what order -- which, by the way, any sensible person traveling through Europe would do.  But not the whimsical Lorelai Gilmore!"

"Hey," she interrupted, sounding hurt.

"You implied things, Lorelai, and then you ran away to Europe--"

"I didn't run away," she protested, frowning.  Shifting closer, she glared up at him, her eyes flashing with anger.  "I had tickets for months.  Rory and I planned that trip for years."

"Oh, please."  Luke dismissed her point.  "You had tickets, which means you had an escape route, and that's the only reason you came in here and said that to me."

"I'm here now," Lorelai interrupted, her voice nearly as loud as his.  Her hands landed on her hips, and she looked about ready to strangle him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I don't have tickets to Europe tomorrow and I'm here with sugar packets so that I can tell you..."  She faltered, breathing hard.

"Tell me what?" Luke demanded, still glowering at her.

She stepped forward and reached up, cupping his chin and bringing her lips to his.  She kissed him hard, leaning into his body until he responded eagerly.  Reaching up, she dislodged his baseball cap and tugged him closer.  They kissed and kissed and kissed, until Luke wasn't entirely sure life existed outside of this moment, and he didn't particularly care to find out.

Finally, Lorelai pulled back a few inches, her eyes startlingly blue as she said, "You're not engaged."

"No," Luke admitted, breathing hard.  "I'm not engaged."  He was, quite frankly, proud that he was able to string words together.  He'd just kissed Lorelai.  In point of fact, Lorelai had just kissed him.  Her arms were still around him, and if he wasn't mistaken, she looked like she wanted to kiss him again.

"And you're not with Nicole?" Lorelai asked, running her fingers through his hair.

Luke bristled.  "Don't you think you should've asked that before you kissed me?"

Lorelai's body tensed in his arms and she attempted to move back.  "Oh."

"I'm not with Nicole," Luke told her, easing one hand down her spine to urge her closer.  "I haven't been for a while."

Nodding slowly, Lorelai relaxed in increments.  "I know the proper thing for a friend to do right now is to say I'm sorry you guys couldn't work it out."  She pressed herself against his chest, her voice husky when she finished, "But I'm not sorry."

Groaning, Luke leaned down and kissed her again, turning them slightly so he could press her back against the counter.  She looped her arms tighter around his neck, pulling him close to kiss him with great enthusiasm.  "You can ignore the last postcard," she mumbled, then trailed her tongue along his jawline.

"What?" Luke asked, slipping one hand under her shirt to caress the small of her back.  He had all these things he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't concentrate on words when she was sucking on his neck.

"Sent you one from New York," she explained breathlessly.  "God, you wear too many clothes."  Lorelai tugged the last button free and then pushed his flannel down his arms.

"You sent me a postcard from New York?" Luke asked, half-crouching so he could drag his tongue along her collarbone.  She tasted ridiculously good, and he dipped his tongue beneath the strap of her tank top.  He pulled the edge of her shirt down to reveal a dark red bra.  Whatever sarcastic remark he'd been about to make deserted him at the sight, and he might possibly have whimpered at little when he slid his hand under her tank top.

"In case -- wow, nice hands -- I chickened out," Lorelai answered, arching her back to press her breasts into his palms.

Luke paused to give her an incredulous look.  "What could you possibly have been afraid of?"

Lorelai's fingers tightened on his biceps, and she looked down for a moment before she answered him.  "Of waiting too long," she said quietly.  She met his gaze.  "I thought maybe you'd found someone better."

Luke struggled with a response.  It was pretty hard to think straight with Lorelai Gilmore's hands on his body, never mind with Lorelai Gilmore's breasts beneath his palms.  But he needed to explain things, especially now that she'd actually revealed something of herself to him.  He'd known she had insecurities, but it amazed him that she could possibly doubt his feelings for her.  He thought he'd made himself painfully, stupidly clear over the years.

He let his hands slide down to her ribcage as he struggled to put feelings into words, a task he usually failed at spectacularly.  "Nicole's great," he answered finally.  "But not for me."

Nodding slowly, Lorelai slid her hands under the sleeves of his t-shirt, caressing his shoulders in small, teasing circles.  "And you think I will be?"

"Good for me?"  Luke grabbed her hips and pulled her against him.  "Yeah, I think you will be."

She kissed him again, slower this time, and with intent.  "So we're really doing this?" she asked, sounding a little nervous.

Hesitating, Luke searched her face.  "Doing what?" he asked, just to be sure.  He wanted her badly, but he needed to know she wouldn't get scared and make this just about sex.  Ending this now would be painful, but watching her walk away later just might kill him.

Shrugging one shoulder, Lorelai glanced at him and away as she answered, "Normally I would say dating, but I'm not sure making out in your diner counts as a date."

Luke let out an explosive breath.  "I'll take you out tomorrow," he promised, kissing her again.  "Anywhere you want to go," he added.  

Laughing, Lorelai pushed at his chest and grinned up at him.  "You should know better than to say things like that to me."

"I'll take my chances," he shot back, unwilling to stop kissing her.  She should know him well enough to know he'd take her anywhere.

"We're going to Chuck E' Cheese," she murmured against his jaw.  "Or a water park!"  She smirked up at him.  "Oh, my God.  Luke Danes in a speedo!"

He cut off her ridiculous litany with a kiss.  It was addictive, kissing Lorelai.  He deepened the kiss, cradling her head in one hand, trying to tell her with his actions the things he still couldn't say aloud.

Her hands slid into his jeans, delving down to cup his ass and bring his hips flush against hers.  Luke groaned into her mouth, his fingers tangling in her hair.  She leaned away just enough to reach between them and unbutton his jeans.

"Lorelai," Luke whispered, dropping his hand over hers.

Her fingers stilled.  "What's wrong?"  Her lips settled into a small frown.

"Nothing," he assured her, taking a moment to kiss her to punctuate his point.  "But we're in the diner."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Lorelai tilted her head and asked playfully, "You never thought about it?"  Her fingernail skimmed across his abdomen.

Luke's breathing stuttered, stalled, and started again.  "Thought about it?" he echoed, his voice rough.  Because she couldn't mean what he thought she meant.

"It," she said, tugging on his waistband.  She glanced around the diner before turning a coquettish look his way.  "Here."

"Of course I've thought about it," he told her, nodding emphatically, probably revealing way too much in the process.  

Her eyes sparkled and she lowered her voice conspiratorially.  "You thought about it with me, right?"

"Of course."

Her smirk softened into a smile, and she cupped his face in her hands and gave him a sweet, chaste kiss.  "Good answer.  I thought about it with you, too."  Luke had to close his eyes for a moment.  It was too much, knowing she'd thought about him like that.  He rested his forehead against hers.  Lorelai tapped his cheek with her thumb, and waggled her eyebrows at him when he met her gaze.  "So?" she prompted.

"So it's a diner," he answered, not without regret.  "There are laws."

Lorelai stepped back and hopped up onto the counter.  "I broke way more important laws for you," she said, reaching over to grab some sugar packets.  She tossed one at him, which he caught without taking his gaze off of her.  "Is that your only counterargument?"

His hands landed on her thighs as he stepped closer, his fingers sliding up and down the rough fabric of her jeans.  "Do I need more than one?"

"Yes," she answered promptly, pressing her knees against his waist.  "Because that reason stinks."  Giving him a saucy look, she tore open a sugar packet and leaned back on one hand.  Holding his gaze, she poured sugar onto her tongue.

"Oh, my God," he mumbled, unable to move, unable to blink.  She was gorgeous, a vixen in tight jeans and a red tank top that did amazing things against her creamy skin, her dark hair falling down her back in long waves.  

"Mmmm," she moaned, her eyes sparkling devilishly at him.  "Delicious."

"You are an evil, evil woman," he told her, drawing on every bit of self-control he possessed to step back.  "Come with me," he ordered as he reached for her.

"Gladly," she agreed with a smirk.  She took his hand and jumped off the counter, following willingly as he dragged her to the door and up the stairs to his apartment.  "Nice ass," she commented on the stairs.

"Lorelai!" he protested.

"Well, it is," she answered, unrepentant.  "You've usually got layers of flannel draped all over the place covering up what is, quite frankly, a very nice ass."

Luke opened the door to his apartment and yanked her inside.  "You never shut up, do you?"

Beaming, she leaned in and kissed him softly.  "Never," she confirmed.

Eagerly, he pulled his t-shirt off and then reached for her tank top, but Lorelai stopped him short, her hands going immediately for his right arm.  "Hold on there, burger boy."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"A tattoo?" she asked, incredulous.  "You have a tattoo on this gorgeous arm of yours?"

He sighed.  "Yes.  Now would you please take your shirt off?"

"Can I kiss your tattoo first?" Lorelai asked, her tone deceptively innocent.

Luke very nearly whimpered at the thought.  He forced himself to keep his arms at his sides instead of grabbing her and tossing her on the nearest flat surface.  "Yeah," he managed.  He tried to recite baseball statistics in his head, but he couldn't remember a goddamn thing except her.  He remembered her waltzing into his diner for the first time.  He remembered her screaming at him in the street.  He remembered her crying at the end of the counter.  He remembered wanting her badly and being unable to even consider the possibility that she might want him, too.  He remembered everything, and he'd never, ever let himself expect this.

"Lorelai," he began, reaching for her again.

She placed one hand in the center of his chest.  "Stand still," she ordered, moving to his left.  She circled him slowly, trailing her hand over his rib cage, along his arm, dipping low across his back.  Her touch was light, but his body shook in reaction.

When she stood behind him, she leaned forward, leaving one hand on his hip as she kissed his tattoo.  "Tattoos," she murmured against his skin, "are very hot."

"Glad you approve," he managed, his voice little more than a rumble in his throat.  He licked his lips, impatiently waiting for her to complete her circle so he could take off her shirt.  And the rest of her clothes.  Immediately, if not sooner.

"Oh, I approve," Lorelai answered, drawing her fingertips down his back again and again, her touch just light enough to drive him crazy.  When her fingers left his skin, he started to turn.  "Stay still," she ordered.

He obeyed with a wordless noise of protest, hanging onto his self-control by a quickly fraying thread.  Moments later, Lorelai draped something over his shoulder.  Reflexively, he reached up and grabbed it, and it took several seconds for him to identify the soft red fabric as her tank top.  "Oh, God," Luke muttered, swallowing hard as her shirt fell from his nerveless fingers.

"Now you can turn around," she told him, laughter in her voice.

He whirled around so fast he nearly lost his balance.  She was beautiful, her pale skin glowing in the dim light, framed by dark black curls, a lacy red bra, and the waistband of her jeans.  Lorelai shrugged, drawing his attention unerringly to her breasts.  "Are you still sure?" she asked, sounding much less self-assured than she had moments before.

Luke met her gaze, stepping forward to draw his fingers down her arms.  "Sure of what?"

"This," she answered simply.  

"I'm sure," he told her, tangling his fingers with hers.

She glanced down, squeezing his hands.  "I was so scared, Luke," she admitted quietly.  "When you said you were going on a cruise..."  She shook her head.  "I was always able to put this off, and I told myself it was because of Rory, because I didn't want to shake up her world.  But it was really because I knew you'd always be there.  Or I thought you would, until a few months ago."

"I never went anywhere," he told her, and it was probably the truest thing he'd ever said about his relationship with Nicole.  It'd been easy and nice and convenient, but it had never come close to eclipsing this thing he shared with Lorelai.

"I thought I wasn't sure whether I felt this way about you," she admitted, ducking her chin.  "But really I wasn't sure I was good enough for you."

Flabbergasted, Luke shook his head.  "Lorelai--"

"You're so good, Luke.  You always have been."  She shrugged, looking up at him again.  "I'm not sure I'm worth the wait."

He dragged her closer, moaning at the contact of her soft skin against his, and wrapped his arms tight around her.  "You're worth it," he said simply.  He dipped his head and placed a kiss at the juncture of her neck.  "Believe me.  And you're gorgeous, too."

Lorelai's body relaxed in his arms.  "Look who's talking," she mumbled into his shoulder, following her words with a series of kisses that left him muttering incoherently.  "Now are you going to take my bra off, or do I have to do everything myself?"

Laughing, Luke took her by the shoulders and held her a few inches away.  "You're impossible."

She nodded, smiling cheerfully up at him.  "But you knew that."

"I did," he admitted, sliding his hands along the back of her shoulders, reaching down to unhook her bra.  She shrugged it off and tugged at the fly of his jeans, pushing them down over his hips.  "You really are gorgeous," he told her, brushing his thumbs across her nipples until she gasped.  

Using her for balance, he stepped out of his shoes and his pants at the same time.  Lorelai gave him a very exaggerated once over and said, "So are you."  Taking his hand, she led him across the room to his bed.  With a beatific smile, she ordered, "Now lose the boxers."

"Bossy."

"Duh," she shot back, reaching for the fly of her jeans.

"No," Luke told her, brushing her hand away.  He slid three fingers into the waistband and yanked her up against him.  "Let me."

Her breathing sped up, and she leaned in and kissed him.  Hard.  Luke slid his thigh between her legs until she moaned and broke the kiss.  "Hurry up," she told him, slipping one hand into his boxers to brush against his erection.

Gritting his teeth, Luke stayed still and let her explore until she wrapped her fingers around him.  "Okay," he said, pulling her hand from him.  He quickly and efficiently stripped and then attacked the button on her jeans with trembling fingers.  Leaning down, he paused to give her breasts some attention, sucking her nipple until she grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.  Grinning now, Luke trailed his tongue down her ribcage, feeling her quick, shallow breaths beneath his mouth as he slowly, torturously pulled her jeans over her hips.  She wore a red thong, and he briefly contemplated leaving it on for a while, just to draw things out.

"Your customers are going to wonder tomorrow," she commented, her voice lower and more breathy than usual.  Still, her continued ability to speak in complete sentences bothered him, so he hooked his fingers through her panties and pulled them off with her jeans.

Cupping her ass with his hands, Luke leaned in and plunged his tongue into her belly button in a gratuitously suggestive manner.  Then he tilted his head back and asked, "Why's that?"

"What?" Lorelai asked breathlessly, her pupils dilating as she stared down at him.

"Why will my customers wonder tomorrow?" he repeated, urging her closer to the bed.  When she reached it, she dropped down to sit on the mattress, her knees opening as he knelt on the floor between them.  He kissed her, long and deep, as he pressed his body to hers and reveled in the feel of all of that beautiful skin sliding against his.

Lorelai wrapped a leg around his ribcage and her arms around his neck, urging him closer.  He knelt up on the floor, ignoring the grind of his kneecaps into the hardwood, because hell if he wanted to move from between her legs.  He leaned closer, angling her down onto the mattress as he broke the kiss.  He kissed his way down to her breasts, earning a gratifying moan from Lorelai as her fingers clutched at his shoulders.

"The sugar," she managed, her voice breathless as he dragged his fingertips along her ribs.  She was so beautiful, and so fragile, and he was still more than a little awed that they were really there, naked in his apartment.

"Huh?" Luke asked, nipping at her hipbone.  Lorelai shifted restlessly beneath him, one hand dropping to the mattress to clutch at the bedspread.  He slid one hand up her inner thigh, urging her to open for him.

"The sugar and your flannel.  Downstairs," she answered breathlessly, arching her hips up in invitation.  

The sugar.  In the diner.  "I don't care," he told her, dipping his head.  He leaned in and kissed her sex, drawing a gasp from her.  

"Me, neither," Lorelai decided, squirming beneath him.  "God," she whimpered, her fingers slipping through his hair.

He moaned at the taste of her, slipping a finger inside her as he sought out her clitoris with his tongue.  He was having trouble believing that this was really happening, except that she was rambling on about sugar while he went down on her, and that was so absurdly Lorelai that it convinced him.

"Luke, please," she begged, her fingers circling his wrist where it lay against her hip.  She tugged at him until he reluctantly lifted his mouth from her.

"Please what?" he asked, his breathing uneven.

She scooted backwards onto the mattress, settling against the pillows.  Leaning on one elbow, she reached for him with her free hand.  "Come here," she ordered.

Luke gladly complied, settling between her welcoming thighs.  It was warm in his apartment, and his skin slid damply against hers.  She felt amazing.  Beyond amazing.  He kissed her some more, sucking her tongue into his mouth, nibbling on her bottom lip until she bucked her hips up into his.  "Condoms," he managed, shifting his weight to reach for the bedside table.

"Oooh."  Lorelai licked and sucked at his chest, making it very difficult for him to concentrate on opening the drawer and locating the box.  "Please tell me you have hot pink condoms, or cherry-flavored condoms, or something totally unexpected."

Luke held up a blue packet.  "Ribbed for your pleasure," he told her, kneeling up to open the packet and roll it on.

Grinning, Lorelai commented, "I'm so buying us pink condoms."

With a grimace, Luke answered, "I am not wearing pink condoms."

Lorelai reached out and grabbed his erection, pumping him skillfully.  "I bet I could persuade you," she said, flicking her thumb across the head.

Luke all but tackled her, and she laughed beneath him even as she spread her thighs.  "You could convince me of anything," he told her, sliding two fingers into her to test her readiness.  She bit her lip, arching a little as he thumbed her clit.

"Luke," she moaned.  "Can I convince you to move things along?"

"God, yes," he answered, positioning himself to push his way into her.  She was hot and tight and wet and his entire world crackled and burned with white heat.  He pulled back, then pushed into her depths again, rocking against her slowly.  He stared down at her, his gaze skimming her body, cataloguing every single detail.  He wanted to remember this.

"You feel so good," she muttered, nipping at his neck.  "Definitely five sugar packets."

"What?" he managed, pausing when he was inside her as far as he could go.  He was amazed at how close to the edge he was already, just from being inside of her.

"Sugar packets," she answered, her eyes wide and dark.  "Ten sugar packets."  She dug her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips, urging him on.  "God, I'll give you a hundred sugar packets if you'll move."

Drawing on the ragged remnants of his self-control, Luke pulled out as slowly as he could bear, pausing again.  "Like that?"

"Damn it," she said, grabbing his ass with both hands to pull him back against her.  "Harder."

Gladly, he complied with her request, thrusting his hips harder, capturing her lips for a long, wet, messy kiss even as he drove into her.  Her hands were all over, scraping up his back, tweaking his nipples, gripping his ass as he moved.  He could hear her desperate little moans over his own harsh breathing.

"Luke," she repeated, reaching up to pull his lips back to hers even as she lifted her thighs higher around his hips.  He sank deeper, his brain nearly short-circuiting.  Her arm snaked up to the headboard, bracing herself as he sped up, moving frantically now.  "Just like that," she pleaded, arching against him.  Her breath caught and she went rigid for a long moment, then moaned as she climaxed around him.

"Lorelai," he said, letting himself go.  Three more thrusts and he was gone, his eyes shut, his body shaking against hers as he groaned something unintelligible against her neck.

His arms were trembling from the strain when he came back to himself, and he carefully dropped down to his elbows, staying as far inside of her as he could.  He never, ever wanted to move.  He said her name in between big gulps of air, his heart racing in the aftermath.

"We're really good at this," Lorelai said, sounding quite pleased with herself.  Her hands slid along his sweaty back, soothing his shaky muscles and urging him closer.  She pushed his hair out of his face.  "Definitely a hundred sugar packets."

He gathered what little strength he had left and rolled them to their sides, sliding out of her with a reluctant groan.  Tossing the condom into a nearby trashcan, he settled against the pillow, running his hands along every inch of silky skin that he could reach.  "I'm never going to be able to look at sugar the same way again."

Lorelai laughed, licking his shoulder.  "My work here is done."  She pushed up onto her elbow and grinned down at him.  "Oh!  Hey!  I'll call you sugar!  That's an acceptable endearment, right?"

"You will not call me sugar," Luke told her, still trying to adjust to this new reality.  Lorelai was back from Europe, and she was here with him, in his bed, joking about what pet names to call him.  He caressed her hip, aching to touch every inch of her.

"See if you can stop me," Lorelai shot back, leaning in to kiss him some more.  The jagged, burning frustration he'd felt for three months -- for seven years, if he let himself be truthful -- eased into a hot, sweet ache as he held her.  He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it might be happiness.

When she pulled back, Luke raised his eyebrows at her.  "Do you really think I'll answer to that?"

"If I say it loud enough within earshot of Taylor?" Lorelai asked saucily.  "I think you'll answer to just about anything to get me to shut up."

Grinning, Luke kissed the edge of her jaw.  "You've discovered my secret."  He worked his lips along her jawline, edging closer to her mouth.  "But there are other, more pleasurable ways to shut you up."  He demonstrated, kissing her gently.  He didn't think he'd ever get tired of kissing her.

Lorelai laid a hand against his chest and settled in against him, reaching down to pull the edge of the sheet over them.  "Very pleasurable," she agreed, her fingers toying with his chest hair.  She nestled closer, letting out a yawn as she tossed one thigh across his.

"Hey, Lorelai," he whispered, feeling her breathing start to even out.  He'd wondered when the jet lag would catch up to her, and wasn't particularly surprised that she was drifting off to sleep.

"Yeah, sugar?" she murmured drowsily.

He stroked her shoulder and smiled at the ceiling.  "Welcome home."

THE END

Written for sosmitten for the Lukesmut Fic-a-thon:

Must have: Luke's dream at the end of season three actually happened.
Could have: Relationship conversation
Shouldn't have: Taylor
Pairing: Luke/Lorelai