Author's note: This is just a little something I thought I'd write as part of Junienmomo's Enscotched Ficathon. Set when Luke and Lorelai were teenagers, it's a little different to your average Gilmore Girls fanfiction but I had a lot of fun writing it and exploring the characters at an earlier stage in their lives. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Love them but I don't own them (sadly!)
-o-
A thousand thoughts swirled around Luke's mind as he pulled up beside the nature reserve, the truck engine rumbling to a stop.
Should he turn back? Make up a weak excuse about the party being cancelled? Perhaps just make an appearance for an hour to say he'd been? What if his father took a turn for the worst?
At almost 18 years of age, Luke Danes was a far cry from the average teenage male. When he wasn't in school, he spent most of his free time helping to run the hardware store, preparing meals for the family and ferrying his father to and from the never-ending schedule of doctor's appointments.
Tonight was a rare exception, and try as he might, Luke couldn't temper the sense of guilt weighing heavily on his chest. He didn't want to go out. Had no intention of driving all the way to Hartford to attend some rich kid's party. And yet, here he was, if for no other reason than to quell William's pleas.
He understood his father's viewpoint; Luke hated to be a burden on anyone and he knew William was cut of the same cloth. Despite Luke's constant reassurances that he didn't mind, William was worried the cancer was forcing his son to grow up too quickly. It had taken him all week to wear down Luke's resolve, but he'd finally convinced him to paint the town red with his friends on Saturday night.
Exhaling a worried sigh, Luke pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped out into the dark night. Despite being parked more than a block away from the party, he immediately felt the deafening thud of the bass drum reverberating deep in his chest.
Just one hour, he promised himself, trudging along the sidewalk toward the source of the music.
It didn't take him long to locate the address. The party was in full swing, the front lawn teeming with unfamiliar faces as he made his way toward the open front door. He didn't know the guy hosting the party: Christopher Hayden, whoever that was. He imagined that was the case for most of the party-goers. When you mentioned the words 'free beer,' word got around quickly. It seemed to Luke virtually half the teenage population of Connecticut was crammed into the upscale mansion.
Scanning the room for his friends, Luke's attention was immediately caught by a lively brunette who was confidently twisting her way across the dance floor, laughing along with her companions in jest as she raised her arms to mimic a sprinkler. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips, amusement evident in his features as she switched to pretending to mow the lawn to the beat of the music. Luke was struck by the incredible blue of her eyes, the bright orbs dancing with laughter.
"Butch! You made it!"
Luke turned toward the voice, noticing his friend Troy walking toward him, a grin plastered across his face. "Didn't think we'd catch you here bro. Good to see you," he added clapping Luke on the back.
Luke simply gave a half smile and a nod, following Troy toward their group of friends assembled across the room.
After exchanging greetings, Bootsy took the opportunity to goad Luke, winking as he said, "You're in luck Butch. Carrie's around here somewhere and she's been asking whether you're coming."
"Aw geez," Luke grumbled, his eyes nervously darting around the room for any sign of the flirtatious blonde. "Somebody give me a code red if you see her headed this way."
They'd made out one time at the homecoming game and she hadn't stopped stalking him since. Generally speaking, Luke didn't mind the female attention that was constantly bestowed upon him, but Carrie was a whole other level of crazy. He practically had to beat her off with a stick to keep a healthy distance between them.
"Pretty ritzy place," Luke grunted, gesturing his head around the room. So far he'd only seen the foyer and lounge area, but he was already taken aback by the sheer scale of the house. After seeing it from the front street, he suspected he could easily fit three of his family home into the floor space.
"Yeah, the Haydens are loaded," Troy agreed. "They've got a mansion up at Cape Cod too. I think that's why Christopher scores the house to himself so often; his parents are constantly flitting off to one of their holiday homes."
"Half their luck," Luke muttered, taking in the expensive-looking furniture and artwork scattered around the room. "How do you know Christopher anyway?" He added, surprised by the connection. Hartford's high society rarely associated with the average Joes outside their social circle.
"Met him at my cousin's party," Troy explained casually. "He's into sports so we got talking about baseball. He's an OK guy; can be a bit of a dick from time to time but he's good for a laugh."
"Code red!" Luke heard Bootsy exclaim, prompting him to glance around in panic, desperately seeking an exit route before Carrie could locate him.
"More like a code brown," Troy countered, howling with laughter. "You almost crapped your pants Butch! Your face is priceless!"
Realizing they were just teasing and Carrie was actually not approaching, Luke shot a stern glare around the group, shaking his head and giving Bootsy a playful punch on the arm for messing with him.
"Ah Luke, code red, code red, CODE RED," Troy urged seriously this time, jerking his head to the right as he said, "approaching at 9 O'clock". Without a second thought, Luke bolted from the group, his head tucked low as he pushed through the dense crowd.
Luke steeled himself for the high-pitch squeal of delight that he knew Carrie would emit the moment she saw him. When it didn't come after a full 30 seconds of making his getaway, he felt the tension in his shoulders dissolve. Glancing behind him to be sure the coast was clear, Luke navigated his way over to the drinks table, casually helping himself to a beverage before seeking a safe zone to hide out in for a few minutes.
Spotting a slightly ajar door a few meters away, Luke made a beeline for the room and cautiously pushed through the doorway, unsure of what he would find on the other side. To his relief, it appeared to be a study, the room dominated by a lavish mahogany desk and the walls lined with books. Aside from the refuge it provided from Carrie, Luke was also grateful for the breathing space the study offered. He'd never been a fan of large crowds and relished the calm that enveloped him.
Closing the door behind him and stepping onto the plush carpet, Luke took his time inspecting the room, carefully running his fingers along the spines of the worn book covers. Proust, Wilde, Woolf and Hemingway — Luke supposed whoever this room belonged to must be an avid reader. The lingering stench of cigar smoke and masculine touches around the room suggested it was perhaps the domain of Christopher's father, but he couldn't be sure.
Luke jumped when the creak of the door interrupted his solitude some minutes later, immediately stepping away from the book case as if he had been somehow misbehaving. Glancing toward the door frame guiltily, he locked eyes with the intruder, immediately recognizing the bright blue orbs that assaulted him. The dancing girl.
She looked as startled as he did, but with a seemingly unwavering confidence radiating from her, she quickly recovered, striding into the room with purpose.
"You don't wanna drink that," she stated in greeting, gesturing to the cup that rested in Luke's hand, frozen half-way to his mouth.
"Uh…sorry?" Luke murmured, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness.
"The drink. Believe me, you don't want to put that bad boy in your mouth. Well, not unless you like the taste of trash can mixed with essence of feet," she quipped. "And in that case, who am I to judge?"
Inhaling the smell of the concoction hesitantly, Luke crinkled his nose in revulsion. "Thanks for the heads up," he grunted appreciatively, setting the drink aside. "What's in it?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know."
"Er…right. I'll take your word for it," Luke nodded, bringing his free hand to rest in his pocket awkwardly.
He watched as the dancing girl made her way over to one of the shelves adorning the far wall, carefully selecting a miniature glass bottle containing a clear liquid. Twisting off the lid, she brought the bottle to her lips, groaning upon discovering its less-than-satisfactory contents.
"Damn, someone beat me to it," she griped, quickly screwing the lid back in place. At Luke's quizzical look she explained, "Straub Hayden is quite the collector. He picks up souvenir bottles of spirits as tokens of his travels and likes to display them in here. He never drinks them so he's none-the-wiser that half the bottles in his study are filled with water instead of vodka."
Placing the bottle back where she found it, the girl continued to scan the shelves, rummaging around until another bottle caught her eye. "More of a gin fan myself," she added, studying the label and raising the bottle in a toast before taking a swig. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Some of London's finest."
Luke merely watched on in fascination as the brunette made her way over to the wooden desk, bending down beneath it as if looking for something. She must have been around 15 or 16 he concluded. Tall, leggy and strikingly beautiful, he held little doubt she was the object of many a teenage boy's affections.
Resurfacing from under the desk, she planted several bottles of alcohol on the table top and drew some crystal glasses from a nearby cabinet.
Pouring a liberal amount of liquor into each glass, she continued to sip from the miniature gin bottle in her left hand.
"Without even realizing it, you my friend, stumbled upon the holy grail of rooms when you walked in here tonight," she explained easily, selecting another bottle and topping up some of the shot glasses.
"The stuff out there is for the masses but this is where we keep all the good brews for those in the know. Chris' cousin keeps us in a steady supply."
Luke merely nodded to acknowledge her ramblings. He got the impression she could chatter away for hours and never tire of it, even with the most introverted of conversation partners. He wasn't great with small talk.
"Fancy a shot?" She asked, stepping out from behind the table and thrusting a shot glass in his direction.
Luke took the drink a little warily, unsure of what the concoction was comprised of.
"Relax, I'm no Goebbels. Besides, if I was going to poison you I sure as hell wouldn't be drinking the same thing," she admonished, raising her own glass. "Cheers!" she added, bringing the glass to her lips and gesturing for him to do the same.
Luke immediately felt the warm burn of alcohol bite at the back of his throat, the creamy flavor unfamiliar to him.
"What was that?" he asked, eyeing the empty glass with skepticism as he handed it back to her.
"Cock-sucking cowboy," she answered casually, returning to the desk to pour another round.
"I'm sorry, what?" Luke choked, taken aback.
"Butterscotch schnapps mixed with Baileys," she shrugged. "You want another?"
"Nah, I'm okay thanks," Luke declined.
Ignoring his protests, the dancing girl poured him a second.
"So you're friends with Christopher?" He questioned, unable to come up with anything more interesting to ask in the spur of the moment.
"We go way back. Have known each other for as long as I can remember," she explained, returning the bottle of schnapps to the table. "How come I've never seen you around?"
"Ah…first time here. I can't say I know Christopher. I'm here with a friend of a friend," he answered, shrugging.
Handing the shot glass back to Luke, the brunette clinked her glass against his as they each proceeded to down their drink.
"God, feel the burn," she exclaimed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that can't be legal in at least three states."
"Pretty sure that's not legal anywhere if you're the age I think you are," she countered with a smirk.
Luke merely raised his eyebrows, his mouth tugging up at the corners. "Right back at you."
Returning to the desk, the brunette looked up as another girl poked her head around the door frame, whining, "Lorelai, what's taking so long? My glass is empty and those drinks are taking forever."
Lorelai, Luke thought, committing the name to memory. Lorelai, the dancing girl. The unusual name seemed fitting for this charismatic being. Luke felt himself being drawn in by her palpable energy.
"Sorry! Coming now," she apologized, tucking the bottles out of sight beneath the desk and hastily gathering the remaining glasses together. "Well, it was nice meeting you. Feel free to help yourself to our little stash whenever you like. Might see you out on the dance floor later cowboy," she added with a wink.
Luke offered her a half smile, raising a hand in farewell as she flitted from the room. Maybe coming to the party wasn't such a bad idea after all.
-o-
He was staring. He couldn't help it.
He tried to act casual, regularly sweeping his eye around the room over the course of the night, but he continually felt his attention being drawn to one place. One person. No matter how hard Luke tried, he found his gaze constantly stopping to linger on her a little longer than was strictly necessary.
He felt his cheeks burn red when she eventually caught him in the act, her impossibly blue eyes lighting up when their gaze met through the crowd. He watched as she cocked her hand, waving her fingers back and forth, gesturing for him to join her and her friends on the dance floor.
He shook his head shyly, holding up two fingers and pointing to one foot as he mouthed "two left feet".
Seemingly undeterred, Lorelai shook her head, once again signaling for him to join her. When he didn't budge, she dropped her bottom lip, pulling the mother of all pouts. Damn. That girl knew how to wear a guy down.
"Are you serious Butch?" he heard Troy ask incredulously from his side. "Lorelai Gilmore just asked you to dance. Lorelai Gilmore," he added, accentuating her name as if she was some kind of goddess or celebrity. "I know you seem to have a way with the ladies, but holy shit, she's next level, even by your standards."
Lorelai Gilmore. So that was her name.
"What are you talking about?" Luke grumbled rhetorically, rolling his eyes.
"I'm talking about the fact that when the hottest girl in the room — hell, quite possibly in the state — invites you to join her on the dance floor, you don't knock her back," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Get out there dude."
Catching her eye once again, Luke watched as Lorelai held one hand out in front of her and waved the other above her head in a circular motion, imitating a cowboy riding a horse and throwing a lasso. He couldn't help but chuckle at the bad-dancing move she'd concocted just for him. He clapped his hands silently in compliment, prompting her to smile a thousand-watt smile. She didn't seem phased that half the room could see her dancing unapologetically badly. If anything, the other party-goers appeared to find her boldness appealing, laughing along with her and fueling her antics. She was indisputably the life of the party.
Not taking no for an answer, Luke watched as Lorelai scooted across the room toward him, only stopping when she reached the edge of the makeshift dance floor and was intercepted by a well-liquored male. Judging by the recognition on her face, it was clearly someone she knew. A friend. Or perhaps a boyfriend. Luke hoped it was the former.
"Who's that?" Luke asked, attempting to feign nonchalance and failing poorly.
"The guy? That's Christopher," Troy confirmed. "I don't think she's with him if that's what you're wondering," he added helpfully. "They're a bit 'on-again, off-again' but last I heard they weren't together. I could be wrong though."
Luke watched as Christopher's hands came to rest on Lorelai's waist, carefully turning her around and steering her back into the throng of dancing teenagers.
"And just like that, Danes goes down in flames," Troy teased, shaking his head. "Man, I can't believe you hesitated."
Though he wouldn't admit it, Luke secretly agreed. He wouldn't have resisted her invitation had she made it over to him without Christopher running interference. More like couldn't have resisted her, he thought gruffly. That pout was something else.
Silently berating himself, Luke was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the busty blonde approaching from his left.
"Butch!" she squealed, prompting Luke to grimace. Crazy Carrie had him cornered.
"So glad you finally made it. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me," she giggled, unaware of the truth to her statement.
"Hi Carrie," Luke responded politely, although his tone lacked enthusiasm.
"Troy, you told me you'd come and find me the minute Butch arrived," she chastised, waggling her index finger at the teenager.
"It's nice to see you out and about handsome," she acknowledged, turning her attention back to Luke and running the palm of her hand over his muscular chest.
Luke attempted to step backwards, but felt the backs of his knees collide with the cabinet behind him.
"Er…yeah. Things have been kind of busy at home so I haven't had a chance to get out much," he explained, desperately looking for an exit strategy.
"You definitely look like you could take a load off," she replied, her hand still roaming the contours of his chest. "Maybe I could help with that," she added breathily.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Luke grasped her wrist and brushed her hand away. "Ah…I'm all good thanks Carrie."
Undeterred, he soon felt her fingertips graze his bicep, Carrie giving the bulging muscles a gentle squeeze.
"My, my, it looks like somebody's been working out," she purred appreciatively. "You've been holding out on me Butch."
Leaning forward, she allowed her breasts to brush up against the cotton of his t-shirt as she whispered seductively, "You know, I haven't organized how I'm getting home tonight. Maybe you could offer me a ride."
The double meaning of her words was not lost on him.
"Actually Carrie, I've had a couple of drinks so I can't get behind the wheel tonight sorry. Maybe Dave could drop you home though. He hasn't been drinking."
Truth be told, Luke had thrown a couple of blankets, pillows and an old foam mattress in the bed of his dad's truck on the off-chance he did decide to drink and stay on at the party overnight, but he wasn't going to mention that to Carrie. She'd be camped out there faster than he could say 'nymphomaniac'.
He continued to ward off her advances for a further 10 minutes before finally extracting himself from her clutches and murmuring, "Men's room. Excuse me."
He couldn't help but wince at Carrie's urgent pleas for him to hurry back. Relieved when she didn't follow him, Luke exhaled a sigh of relief.
After exiting the bathroom, Luke couldn't stop himself from scanning the dance floor for her. Lorelai Gilmore.
Her sparkling blue eyes were nowhere to be found.
Had she left? Taken a breather from the dance floor? Perhaps returned to the study?
His eyes continued to roam the room in search of her, finally locating the blue-eyed beauty perched on one of the lounges. She was surrounded by a group of friends, a drink in one hand and Christopher seated beside her.
She threw back her head in easy laughter as one of her companions regaled a story that clearly delighted her.
Making his way back toward the study, Luke once again let himself into the deserted room, this time heading straight for the drinks concealed behind the desk. Casting his eye over the bottles with interest, he finally settled on an upmarket-looking whiskey. Beer was normally his poison of choice, but the current selection was largely limited to spirits so he worked with the available options. After pouring the amber liquid into a glass, he returned the bottle beneath the desk and slipped from the room.
Lorelai was still seated on the lounge, Luke noticing that the majority of her friends had returned to the dance floor in his absence. He watched as Christopher's hand moved to rest just above her knee. Lorelai neither welcomed the touch nor rejected it; she simply didn't acknowledge it as the two continued conversing. Was Troy mistaken? Could they be back together?
Glancing nervously around the room to make sure Carrie was occupied a safe distance away, Luke forced himself to look elsewhere — anywhere — but at Lorelai. His resolve didn't last long.
Allowing his eyes to stray in her direction, he watched as Christopher angled his body toward hers, his questing hand moving higher up her creamy white thigh as he moved to trap her body beneath his own and the back of the couch.
Luke was pleasantly surprised to see Lorelai remove Christopher's hand from her leg, her movements clearly indicating she was not receptive to his ministrations. Hovering above her, Christopher leant down to whisper something in her ear, careful not to spill the drink she held in one hand.
Forcing himself to look away again, Luke focused his attention on Bootsy across the room. He seemed to have found himself a sizeable group of girls that were presently laughing at his latest anecdote. He was surprised to see Troy wasn't over there playing wingman. Perhaps Carrie had turned her attentions on him instead, Luke thought with a smirk.
His gaze flicking back to Lorelai, he saw Christopher nuzzle her neck, his head buried in the crook of her shoulder. Luke watched as the brunette pushed her free hand against his chest, obviously indicating that she wanted him to get up. His senses on high alert, Luke didn't bother to pretend his attention was diverted elsewhere. Was she in need of help? Or was she pushing against Christopher to suggest they relocate somewhere a little more private?
The serious expression on her face suggested it was most likely the former, but he couldn't be certain. Not wanting to cause a scene — particularly when he wasn't sure whether the alarm bells ringing in his head were well-founded or not — Luke hastily contemplated a plan of action that would provide assistance if required but also not cause problems if he'd read the situation incorrectly.
Setting off toward the lounge, he kept his eyes firmly on her. Christopher proceeded to lavish Lorelai's neck with open mouth kisses, heedless of the throngs of people that surrounded them. Once again, Lorelai tried to shove him off her, her free hand pushing more forcefully against his chest and her torso twisting as she struggled to shift away from him.
Reaching the duo, Luke purposefully strode past them and knocked the drink Lorelai held over the end of the lounge from her grasp. The glass clattered to the ground but thankfully did not break.
"Geez. So sorry. I'm such a klutz," he apologized, feigning surprise at the collision.
Luke registered the shock evident on Lorelai's face, but noticed it also appeared to be mixed with relief as Christopher pulled away from her.
"I really need to pay more attention to where I'm going," he rambled, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Sorry, let me get you another," he offered.
"Oh that's okay," she countered, capitalizing on the opportunity to get away from Christopher. "I'll get up and grab a refill."
Rising from the lounge, Lorelai quickly smoothed her skirt before taking off toward the study, nodding at Luke as she passed and prompting him to stay hot on her heels.
"Are you okay?" He breathed the second the study door closed behind them. Lorelai rested her back against the wood, taking a moment to compose herself before pushing off toward the desk.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" she answered firmly, her self-assuredness rapidly returning.
"I just…I mean….the guy…you didn't seem like…" he trailed off, suddenly doubting whether he'd misread the situation.
"I can handle Christopher," she stated, brandishing one hand casually as she reached for a bottle with the other.
"It didn't seem that way," he answered quietly, noticing her refusal to make eye contact.
Luke watched as Lorelai lined up six shot glasses, carefully filling each with a clear liquid he supposed was vodka. Without another word she downed the first shot, immediately moving to the second and slamming the empty glass down on the table.
"Are you sure that's a great idea?" he questioned, regarding the selection of shots warily as she reached for a third.
She might have been tall, but she wasn't a particularly big build and he doubted she'd be able to hold much liquor. She'd been drinking steadily all night and Luke hadn't seen her take so much as a bite to eat in the time he'd been there, so he knew the extra spirits could only end in disaster.
"What are you, my mother?" she challenged with a smirk, cocking her eyebrow. "I've got six perfectly good drinks here. Are you gonna just stand there and question my poor life choices or help take some off my hands? I can finish them all myself if I need to."
Her words inciting him to action, Luke stepped forward, cautiously picking up one of the shots and downing it quickly. His throat seared with heat and he felt the liquid warm his chest as it seeped lower. Reaching for another, he soon caught up to her, intent on making sure she consumed as few of the drinks as possible. If Christopher tried his luck again and she was even more inebriated, Luke had no doubt how the evening would finish up.
They downed their third drinks together, Lorelai gripping the edge of the wooden desk as she felt the buzz filter down to her fingertips. She'd lost count of the number of drinks she'd consumed, which wasn't unusual for a Saturday night in Hartford.
As she stooped to deposit the bottle beneath the desk, both Luke and Lorelai were startled to hear to the music suddenly come to a stop, followed by loud screams of, "Cops! Run!"
Their eyes widening in panic, the duo froze momentarily before Luke registered the gravity of the situation and urged, "Quick! The window."
Working up the glass pane, he stuck his head out of the frame to check the coast was clear before assisting Lorelai to climb through. Following close behind, he skillfully lunged through the opening, landing deftly on his feet. Grabbing hold of her hand, he tugged insistently, the two teenagers running off into the night.
She wasn't a runner; that much was clear. Call it the copious amounts of alcohol or simply a lack of athletic ability, but Luke found he had to slow his pace considerably to allow her to keep up even after she'd taken her heels off. If he'd been by himself, he would have legged it until he was deep within the nearby reserve. As Stars Hollow High's track star, it wouldn't have taken him long and he could have easily avoided the handful of police that scoured the area in pursuit of underage drinkers. But despite the sluggish pace; despite the fact he could clearly see an officer headed in their direction, he stuck by her side. He wouldn't leave her just to save his own skin.
"I don't mean to alarm you but Chief Wiggum over there is gaining on us and we might need to speed this up a little," he urged, pulling on her hand as he glanced over his shoulder at the slightly rotund officer in hot pursuit.
"Shit! You go ahead. There's no point both of us getting caught," she panted, doing her best to move her long legs a little faster.
"Not gonna happen," he assured her, glancing anxiously over his shoulder. "Here, jump on my back," Luke urged, slowing momentarily to crouch down.
"What? No!" Lorelai exclaimed, imploring him to get up and keep moving. "I'll just slow you down more."
"Trust me. Get on. NOW!" he begged, conscious of the police officer gaining ground.
Hesitating for only a fraction of a second, Lorelai did as requested, clinging tight to his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist as he pushed upwards and took off at speed. Damn, the guy could run.
Despite the added weight, Luke felt the taut muscles in his legs quiver to life, his track prowess combining with the adrenaline of the moment to put a healthy distance between them and the policeman.
"I think we're good," he heard Lorelai murmur from over his shoulder a few minutes later, prompting him to slow and look for any signs of the officer. Sure enough, he was nowhere to be seen.
"He stopped chasing us and turned back a couple of hundred meters ago so we should be far enough away now. I think he realized there were easier pickings than Leroy Burrell here," she added, patting him on the back affectionately.
After lowering Lorelai to her feet, Luke rested his palms against his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Thanks cowboy; I owe you big time," Lorelai beamed, laughing with exhilaration.
"Welcome," Luke panted, feeling the oxygen slowly return to his lungs.
Taking in her surroundings, Lorelai concluded they were somewhere in the middle of the nature reserve that backed on to Christopher's neighborhood. Despite the lights being few and far between, the glow of the full moon illuminated the setting well.
"There's a tap there if you need some water," she offered helpfully, gesturing to a picnic area a short distance away. Nodding, Luke moved in the direction she pointed, cupping his hands beneath the spray and bringing them to his mouth as he gulped down the cool liquid gratefully.
"You could probably do with some of that yourself," he commented with a raised brow, remembering the large number of drinks she'd consumed earlier.
"Why bother when I've got this?" she teased, drawing his attention to the bottle of vodka she clasped in her left hand.
"What? How did you…?" Luke asked incredulously. "Geez, I can't believe you held onto that this whole way!" he groaned, laughter rumbling up from deep within his stomach.
Feeling the buzz of the alcohol pulsing through her veins and encouraged by Luke's response, Lorelai was overcome with a fit of the giggles. "Yeah, well, a girl's got her priorities. Far out, did that really just happen?" she queried, her words slurring slightly as the laughter bubbled from inside her.
"I know, right? One minute we're taking a shot; the next all hell breaks loose," Luke agreed, a smile lighting his face.
"So what do you wanna do cowboy?" she asked mischievously. "We can't go back there anything time soon."
"Guess you're stuck with me," he responded, inwardly pleased by the stroke of luck. "Nothing to do but wait it out."
"Well come on then," Lorelai encouraged, extending her hand toward him, intent on investigating what was on the other side of the thicket of trees coated in darkness nearby. She was hoping for a comfortable place to kick back with the bottle of spirits and relax until they could leave.
"You sure?" He queried. "I mean, it's dark in there. You don't even know me. I could be an axe murderer for all you know."
"You packing an axe where I can't see it?" Lorelai queried, automatically bursting into a fit of laughter when she registered the unintentional double meaning in her words. "Sorry, but dirty," she laughed.
Luke merely rolled his eyes, but Lorelai could still see the humor dancing within them.
"No axe," he confirmed.
"You a serial killer?"
"Nope."
"Molester?" she asked, slurring the 's'.
"Nah."
"Chainsaw mass…massa…massacrist?" she choked out, struggling to get the made up word off her tongue.
"Not my style."
"Thinking about dragging me off to the forest to dismember me?"
"Wasn't planning on it."
"I rest my case; you're golden. The fashion police might have a thing or two to say about that flannel, but it's not exactly hard crime so I think I'm okay," she added with a wink, gesturing for him to follow. "You comin' cowboy?"
Pausing for a moment, Lorelai let her fuzzy mind run back over the night's conversations in an attempt to recall whether they'd ever officially introduced themselves. "Hey, I just realized I don't know your name," she commented, her brow furrowed. "I'm…"
"Lorelai Gilmore, I know," Luke interrupted.
"Well, well, well…it seems you've done your homework," she remarked, arching one eyebrow. "Either that or my reputation precedes me. In which case, don't believe what they told you. It's all lies."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he answered good-naturedly.
"And you?"
"I'm ah…Benedict. Benedict Peckerbottom," he murmured with a nod, interested to find out if she would believe him. He didn't know why he said it. Something about the lively brunette inspired an uncharacteristic sense of lightheartedness within him.
"Sorry?" Lorelai asked, unsure whether she heard him correctly.
"Benny for short," he confirmed. "Benny Peckerbottom."
He saw the emotions warring behind her eyes. Saw her well-bred self somehow manage to stop her inebriated self from laughing outright. "It's nice to finally put a name to the face Benny," she added in the most composed manner she could, turning toward the trees so he couldn't see the irrepressible smile that graced her lips. A name like that was just begging to be mocked.
"I'm kidding," he added after a few seconds of silence.
"Oh thank god!" She spluttered, releasing the giggles she'd been so desperately working to stifle. "Do you have any idea how much restraint it took me not to laugh in your face?"
For the second time that night, Luke felt the swell of laughter bubble up inside of him, warm and genuine. It had been a while since he'd laughed. Not the false laugh he'd occasionally choke out in social settings to be polite, but the deep, rumbling belly laugh that emanated from his core. Unlike most people, it appeared Lorelai Gilmore had the uncanny ability to draw this from him. With his mom gone and his dad so sick, he really hadn't had much reason to laugh of late.
"So what is your name really, smartass? No pretending this time," Lorelai demanded, a smile still gracing her features.
"Luke. Luke Danes," he lamented with a cocky grin. "Scout's honor."
"Well Luke Danes, I think you and I are up for an adventure tonight. You game?"
"Always," he confirmed with a smile, following her as she entered the line of trees.
He could see that the trifecta of shots she'd downed back at the house was now beginning to take effect, as evidenced by the slight slur in her speech and her unsteadiness on her feet as they walked over uneven grass.
"You right there tiger?" He asked, reaching for her elbow to stabilize her and trying hard not to wince when he saw her stumble over a patch of grass.
"Right as rain," she cooed happily, giggling as she corrected her footing.
"Here, give me those," he muttered, reaching for the high heels she carried in one hand so she'd at least be able to break her fall if she did topple over.
"They're not really your color cowboy, but hey, whatever you're into," she joked, tossing the shoes in his direction and missing her target by a mile.
"Yeah, pink really would have gone better with my outfit," he muttered sarcastically, collecting both shoes from the ground and tucking them under his arm.
They continued to trudge along the overgrown path that snaked through the trees, quickly coming to a clearing where they found a small stream.
"Oh cool!" Lorelai exclaimed, stumbling her way down the embankment and dropping onto the soft grass. "Couldn't have picked a better spot."
Following close behind, Luke joined her on the ground, watching as she unscrewed the lid from the bottle of vodka and took a swig.
"Geez, you're what? 130lbs max? How the hell are you still standing?" He asked, baffled.
"Practice makes perfect," she quipped, attempting to wink but failing miserably as she closed both eyes instead, prompting Luke to chuckle.
"Here, help a girl out," she instructed, handing him the bottle and motioning for him to drink.
"Taste's horrible," he complained after one mouthful, drawing the bottle away from his lips.
"Gets better the more you have."
Taking another sip, Luke grimaced once again.
They chattered away easily for a half hour before Lorelai asked, "So which school do you go to Luke? Cowboy College for Kids Who Can't Dance? "
"How'd you guess?"
"Seemed like a likely possibility. I wouldn't dream of sending my kids anywhere else."
"Stars Hollow High," he answered. "No frills, but it does the job. What about you?"
"St. Jude's," she murmured, referring to one of the more exclusive schools in the area that was renowned as much for churning out the next generation of future Ivy League graduates as for its high price tag.
Luke let out a low whistle. "No kidding."
"Yeah, don't think the irony is lost on me."
"How so?" he queried, unsure of what she was getting at.
"St. Jude: Patron saint of lost causes. And yet all of Hartford's high society is just dying to secure their snooty kids a place there. Nothing but the best for the next generation of disappointments," she said bitterly, the drunken giggle that followed softening her words.
"That good, huh?"
"It's not what you know Danes; it's who you know. And how much money you have in your bank account. Remember that," she added earnestly, her blue eyes wide and boring into his as she struggled to bring the blurry outline of his face into focus. "Hey, no hogging the booze."
"You know what; I think you've had enough of that particular cocktail of death for one night. How about we give it a rest for a while?"
"Nuh-uh. No fair. I pilfered that fair and square. HA! I rhymed! Did you hear Luke? I rhymed! Hahahaha!"
Luke smirked, finding her drunken behavior comical rather than annoying.
"Hand it over cowboy," she urged, reaching for the bottle resting between them.
"Not a chance."
"No fair," she whined, flopping onto her back on the grass. When she was confident he thought her attention was diverted elsewhere, she lunged for the bottle, grasping it tightly in her hands and clambering to her wobbly feet.
"Hey, give that back! It's for your own good. Do you really want to have your head in the toilet bowl tomorrow?" he warned.
"Safe to say I'm already going to be riding the porcelain bus Danes. Might as well enjoy the journey. Beep beep", she added in a high pitched voice, pretending to blast a bus horn.
At his scowl, Lorelai asked, "You really don't want me to drink it?"
Luke simply nodded.
"Well you're gonna have to come and get it." At that, she turned on her heel and staggered down toward the water's edge.
"No, not near the water Lorelai," Luke yelled, panic rising in his chest as he jumped to his feet. She could barely walk, let alone swim. "You can keep the bottle; just don't go near the water okay?"
All he received in response was a girlish giggle. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little water cowboy."
"Lorelai, you're drunk. Swim anytime you like when you're sober…just not now."
"I'm not drunk. I'm sotally tober. I mean sotally…ah hell, I am drunk," Lorelai laughed.
Luke felt the wind knocked out of him when a wad of soft cotton socked him in the face. Lorelai's skirt. Dear god she was taking her clothes off.
"Lorelai, no…" he trailed off helplessly.
If he wasn't so panicked by her determination to go swimming, he would have thought all his Christmases had come at once.
Running toward her, his concern increased as he saw her t-shirt go flying through the air. She began wading into the water in her underwear, the bottle grasped firmly in her right hand.
"You comin' in or planning on leaving me all alone out here with only my good friend vodka to keep me company?" she taunted.
"Shit," Luke muttered. There was nothing else for it. He'd have to go in and drag her back to the bank.
Quickly stripping down to his boxers, he waded in after her, Lorelai cheering with glee as his toes touched the water.
"Cowboys can swim after all! Who knew?" Lorelai said, laughing delightedly.
He watched as she took another pull from the bottle, swaying dangerously as she struggled to stay upright in the water despite only being submerged up to her waist.
"Alright, I'm in. You happy? Time to get out now."
"No Luke, I want to go swimmmiiinnnggg!" she called excitedly. "Come swimming with me!"
His jaw set firmly, Luke pushed through the water toward her, grasping her by the shoulders and saying, "Lorelai, it's not safe. You need to go back to the bank. We can swim another day."
"But I want to swim now Luke," she whined.
Ignoring his desperate pleas, she bent her knees, allowing her shoulders to slip through his grasp as she sunk down into the water beneath.
He lowered his hands after her, frantically seeking out her form in the water's murky depths. His hands coming into contact with her shoulders, he quickly moved them beneath her arms, hauling her upwards.
He could see the shock written plainly on her face as she resurfaced.
"God Lorelai, you scared me! Don't do that!" he yelled, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he saw tears well in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking her wet hair away from her face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. It just really scared me when you disappeared under the water. Please don't do that again. You've got to stay safe," he pleaded.
Still shocked by his outburst, Lorelai said nothing, finally grasping the seriousness of the situation.
"I'm sorry," she choked out, a lone tear seeping down her cheek, mixing with the droplets of water clinging to her skin.
Swiping the tear away with the pad of his thumb, Luke looked into her remorseful blue eyes and said gently, "Come on, let's go back to the bank."
Holding onto her arm firmly, Luke led Lorelai from the water.
"Here, use this to dry off," he said, offering her his flannel. He could make do without it.
When he saw her sway dangerously on her feet, he helped her to sit on the grass, gently running the flannel down each of her arms and over her calves. He didn't dare dry her any further than that, not wanting to overstep any boundaries when she was clearly intoxicated. Instead, he wrapped the flannel around her immobile frame, rubbing his hand over the cotton covering her back in an attempt to warm her up.
"Hey, you feeling okay?" he asked softly, lifting her chin with his finger.
"Yes," she whispered. "Everything's spinning."
He let out a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, that tends to happen when you drink like a sailor. It'll pass soon, I promise."
"I really am sorry Luke," she said with a slight slur.
"I know. I'm sorry too. No harm done; that's the important thing. Just don't go pulling anymore crazy stunts or you'll give me heart failure before I reach my twenties," he joked, trying hard to set her at ease.
"Uh oh, I think I'm gonna…" Lorelai trailed off, cupping her hand over her mouth as she jerked her head to the side and rose up on all fours.
Luke hovered above her, holding her hair back and awkwardly patting her back as she dry wretched repeatedly. "Easy tiger."
"Passed now," Lorelai muttered, flipping back into a sitting position, grateful that she hadn't brought up the contents of her stomach in front of Luke.
"I'm sorry. S'humiliating," she whispered in a rare display of vulnerability, her cheeks flaming red.
"On the contrary, I think it's kind of exhilarating. I haven't had a night this action-packed in years," he offered good-naturedly. "Why don't we wait it out a little longer here to make sure your stomach's settled and the dizziness is gone, then head back to where we saw that tap before? It would be good to get some water into you so your head's not too sore in the morning. It shouldn't be too long before the buzz wears off anyway."
Lorelai nodded, closing her eyes and drawing deep, steadying breaths as she tried to repress the overwhelming swirling motion in her head. Good one, she thought bitterly. Lorelai Gilmore: Making poor life choices since 1968.
-o-
One hour later, the duo trudged up beside the beat up green truck, Lorelai leaning wearily against the side as Luke foraged through the glove compartment. While there was still plenty of alcohol in her system, the drunken fog had lifted from Lorelai's mind, leaving her a little merry but completely in control of her faculties.
"Here, pop a couple of these," he instructed, locating a pack of Advil. Luke handed her the vodka bottle — now full of water — and watched as she gulped down some of the cool liquid hastily.
"Did I tell you how much I owe you?" She questioned.
"Only about 300 times in the last 10 minutes. Don't mention it," Luke chuckled.
Squinting down the road toward Christopher's house, Luke noticed the lack of noise and movement on the deserted street; a stark contrast to when he'd first arrived.
"Looks like all's quiet on the Western Front," he murmured.
"Yeah, nothing like a visit from the boys in uniform to shut down a good party. I wonder if anyone got caught."
"Probably quite a few kids getting their butts kicked by their parents right now," Luke snorted. "Speaking of parents, are yours going to be wondering where you are?"
"Nope. As far as they're aware, I'm mid-movie marathon at Cindy Marshall's house. I was planning on crashing at Christopher's. You?"
"Ah, I'm free to come and go as I please. I actually think Dad will be pretty impressed that I stayed out," he laughed.
"So where's your bed for the night?"
"You're lookin' at it," he responded, wrapping his knuckles on the side of the vehicle affectionately.
"You're sleeping in the truck?" Lorelai asked, wondering how he was going to stretch out in the cabin.
"In a manner of speaking." Jerking his head toward the tray, he beckoned for her to follow him around to the back.
"Got the full setup here," he explained, pulling back the plastic cover to reveal the mattress, pillows and blankets beneath.
"No kidding! You come prepared Danes."
"Yeah, the guys and I have used it a few times when we want to go away for a quick trip and can't be bothered packing all our camping equipment just for one night. Dad usually doesn't mind me borrowing it for a night and it's a cool way to sleep under the stars without all the hassle of pulling out the camping gear."
"This is my kind of camping," Lorelai laughed. "No fishing, no tents, no uncomfortable inflatable mattresses. I could be a regular outdoorsman with a setup like this."
"Well, always room for one more tonight if you don't mind sleeping together. I mean…geez, that came out wrong. Just umm…sleeping. You know, like as in asleep. Side-by-side. Snoring. 40 winks. Sorry, I didn't mean…" Luke rambled, his cheeks flushing crimson.
"If you wanted to get me into bed Danes, you could have just said so," Lorelai teased.
"No, Lorelai, I…"
"I know what you meant Luke," Lorelai said softly, hoisting herself up onto the bed of the truck. "And yes, I'd love a place to crash if it's not going to put you out."
"Ah, sure, no problem," Luke nodded, still embarrassed.
He joined her on the mattress, arranging the blankets so they covered the two of them and offering her a couple of pillows.
"This is comfier than my bed at home," Lorelai marveled, fluffing up the pillows behind her head and smiling at Luke. "Seriously, it's like sleeping on a cloud. I couldn't be any cozier if I tried."
"Yeah well, you'll get my bill," Luke grunted.
"So is this the part where you tell me a ghost story? Is that what you boys do on your trips?"
"Can't say we do, I'm afraid. Sorry to disappoint."
"Well what do you do then? Drink? Talk about fishing and girls?"
"Something like that," Luke snorted. "We've already covered the drinking component of the evening, and somehow I don't think fishing and girls will be right at the top of your favorite topics of conversation, so maybe we'd better try out plan B instead."
"Ooh, talk about shopping and what color we're going to paint our nails?"
"Check out the stars," he countered dryly.
"Not half as much fun but it'll do. Alright, tell me what I'm looking at," Lorelai requested craning her neck backwards to get a better view.
"Er…see the kind of cross shape there?" Luke asked, raising one hand to point out the stars he was referring to. "That's Cygnus, the swan."
"Is that the one that sits inside the Summer Triangle?"
"Yep, spot on. I'm not one for all the Greek mythology mumbo jumbo, but legend has it that Zeus, the god of the sky, transformed himself into a swan to seduce Leda, the King of Sparta's wife."
"What a manwhore!" Lorelai accused, laughing.
"Yeah, word on the street is he was a bit of an asshole," Luke agreed with a chuckle. "Apparently he struck down poor Asclepius with a thunderbolt. That's who this constellation over here supposedly represents." He added, pointing to some slightly less bright stars in another section of sky.
"Who's Asclepius?"
"The god of medicine. He was so successful at healing people that he brought some back from the dead. Naturally, good old Zeus wasn't too impressed about that when some of his old enemies started showing up."
"I'll bet. And that one?" Lorelai asked, pointing to a cluster of stars in the southern part of the sky as she rearranged her position on the mattress and shifted closer to Luke. Despite the summer weather being seasonably warm, Lorelai was still drawn to the heat emanating from his body as she snuggled down further amongst the light blankets.
"That's Scorpius. See how it's kind of in the shape of a scorpion?" he said, tracing the outline above their heads with his index finger. Noticing her change in position, he lowered his arm once again, wrapping it around her shoulders and drawing her close to his side. "It's associated with a hunter named Orion. There are a couple of versions of his death but one story goes that Orion was hunting on the island of Crete and got a little bloodthirsty. He threatened to kill every beast on Earth, which naturally pissed off Mother Nature big time. She showed him who was boss though and sent a giant scorpion to take him down. When he died, Zeus added constellations for both Orion and the scorpion to the skies."
"How do you know all this? I mean, for someone who claims they're not into the 'mythology mumbo jumbo' you seem to know an awful lot about it," Lorelai teased.
"Picked a story or two up from when I used to go on camping trips with my dad."
"Used to? You too cool to hang out with him now Danes?"
Luke stiffened, realizing his slip of the tongue. He didn't normally reference his father's illness if he could avoid it. He hated the looks of pity he received.
"Nah. Um…he's not really up to going camping anymore." At Lorelai's quizzical look, he simply added, "cancer."
"Oh Luke, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, her hand coming to rest against his chest in a sign of solidarity. Luke merely cleared his throat and gave a silent nod, quickly averting his eyes.
"So you get on well with your parents?" she added softly.
"Yeah, Dad's a good guy. Mom passed away a few years back but I've got loads of great memories of her. She was really lively and fun. Always the life of the party," he said, smiling fondly. "And you?" he added, eager to have the spotlight taken off him. "You get along with your folks?"
"Ah…not so much," she admitted. "Dad works long hours so I don't really see that much of him. Mom and I make Batman and the Joker look like best friends."
"That amicable, huh?"
"Yeah. I don't know why it is that we can't seem to have a civil conversation without it always ending in a fight. We just value different things. She's all about cotillion balls and fancy dinners and DAR meetings, and I'm just…well…me. One big disappointment."
"That's not how it looks from where I'm sitting," Luke whispered softly, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.
"Trust me, it's true," she said flatly. "I'll never live up to their expectations. I wish I could be what my parents both want me to be. I wish I could love the things that they love and dream about going to Yale and relish living in that soulless, extravagant house, but I can't. God knows I've tried. I don't know how to be what they want."
"Why not just be you then?"
"Because I don't really know how to be that either," she replied softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Staring at her lithe form curled up by his side, the moonlight illuminating her pensive face, it struck Luke that perhaps Lorelai Gilmore wasn't so confident after all. Perhaps her seemingly unwavering self-assurance and biting sarcasm were simply well-crafted defenses designed to house a deep-seated insecurity.
"You know, you were right earlier tonight," she confessed quietly. "About Christopher. I couldn't get him to stop and I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't intervened."
Luke refrained from responding, sensing that she had more to say but was struggling to find the right words.
"The other time it happened was when we were still together and I thought maybe he was right and that it would feel good if I just relaxed and went with it like he told me to, but it didn't. Afterwards, I just felt dirty," she whispered.
"Lorelai, I…" Luke started, shocked by her admission, but he trailed off when he found no words came to his lips.
"He said it was the perfect way to get back at our parents. Maybe it was. My mother would be pissed if she knew," she said with a wry smile.
"W…were you safe?" Luke choked out, unable to form any of the other thousands of questions swirling around his brain.
"Yeah, we were practically a condom commercial."
After a brief silence, Lorelai added, "I guess it was my own fault. He didn't get the message every time I told him no, so I probably should have tried harder to stop him. I just panicked in the moment and didn't know what to do."
"Lorelai, this is not your fault. Do you hear me? You did nothing wrong," Luke stressed, feeling an unrepentant wave of anger bubble up inside him. "'No' means 'no' and it should never have been like that. Christopher took advantage of you. I've got half a mind to march down to his house right now, haul his drunken ass out of bed and kill the bastard," he raged, moving to sit up.
"Luke, no!" Lorelai begged. "Please don't. It will only make things worse."
Luke stilled at her request, feeling the harsh sting of fury pulsing through him. No wonder she had downed so many shots after he'd pulled her away from Christopher. She was looking for an escape.
Not wanting to upset her, he let go of his attempt to get up, silently vowing that he'd make sure Christopher got the message to never touch her again just as soon as he was out of Lorelai's sight.
"I hate what he did to you," Luke seethed, his voice rough and low.
"It's done now."
"Yeah, and I'll damn well make sure it doesn't happen again. This is not okay Lorelai."
A comfortable silence eventually fell between them, Luke gradually feeling his heartrate return to normal as they turned their attention back to the skies.
Her hand still resting against his chest, Lorelai asked quietly, "You ever want to pack up and leave? Grab your stuff and just run as far as you can?"
Luke pondered for a moment. "Sometimes," he confessed gruffly, thinking back on the miserable period right after his mother died. "Not much anymore though. I've got responsibilities at home."
"Your dad?"
"Yeah, and my sister. She's about your age. I couldn't forgive myself if I left. To be honest, I don't want to. Ever since my mom got sick…well, the town's been like family."
Lorelai nodded, lost in thought.
"You?" she heard Luke ask, breaking her reverie. "You ever think about running?"
"Constantly."
"Where would you go?"
"I don't know. New York. Paris. Florida. Wherever the road takes me. Anywhere but here."
"Florida? Seriously? You realize you're increasing your chances of death by alligator attack by like 3,000 per cent, right? That's if the stench of old people or hurricane season doesn't take you out first," he ranted, a twinkle of humor discernable in his eyes.
"OK, maybe not Florida," she conceded with a smile. "I wouldn't even care if I ended up in the next town over. Just not Hartford. Not my parents' house."
"Well, wherever you go, promise you'll stop by and say hi from time to time; tell me about all your crazy adventures. Better yet, stick it out at your parents' until you finish school and whenever you're having a tough time, catch a bus to Stars Hollow and come and see me. We can hang out and piss off the pain-in-the-ass town selectman by parking our camping-mobile in the loading bays. I can see the smoke coming out of his ears already."
Lorelai laughed. "I might just take you up on that Danes."
"I mean it Lorelai. Jokes aside, if you need a refuge at any point, come and find me."
"Thank you. You're a pretty great guy you know," she stated earnestly.
"Hardly," he grunted.
"I'm serious. I've only just met you and I can already see that."
"Don't say that," Luke scowled, shaking his head.
"What? It's true."
"It's not," he said softly. Noting her furrowed brow, he said, "If you knew me well you might not think so."
"Try me. I'm the queen of Bitter-and-twisted-ville. Tell me something deep and sinister about you. Something no one else knows."
"Not gonna happen."
"Come on. No judgement, I promise."
Luke clenched his mouth shut, the muscle flexing in his jaw. It wasn't in his nature to talk much at all, let alone talk about his deepest, darkest thoughts. And yet somehow, stretched out in the bed of his father's truck beside a girl he'd met only hours previously, he felt the words form on his tongue.
"I think my dad's going to die."
Lorelai didn't say anything; didn't quite know where he was going with the statement or what she could offer that wouldn't seem insensitive, so uncharacteristically, she kept her mouth firmly closed.
"I think my dad's going to die and that makes me a horrible person because I'm supposed to have this ridiculous level of hope and this…I don't know…staunch belief that everything will work out okay," he admitted, exhaling slowly. "Everyone keeps looking to me to tell them that this latest round of treatment is working and that he's turning a corner, but the reality is that he's getting sicker every day. He knows it, I know it, the doctors know it and there's not a damn thing I can do about it, no matter how hard I try."
"My sister is relying on me to tell her that everything's going to be okay and I can't lie to her Lorelai. I can't lie because in three months or six months or a year everything's going to turn to shit and she'll fall apart. I'll fall apart. I'm the guy that has to keep our dad's failing business going. I'm the guy that has to put food on the table. I'm the guy that somehow has to find a way to pay all of the medical bills that are racking up. And when the time comes that it all becomes too much, I'll be the guy crashing down in flames and letting his family down. So believe me when I say: I'm not a great guy. I'm actually a pretty shitty one."
"You sound like a pretty human one to me," Lorelai said quietly, taking a moment to lace the fingers of her right hand with his left. "A human one that doesn't have the power to control the shitty card he's been dealt but is doing the best he can despite the circumstances. That's still pretty great in my book."
"Maybe."
"Definitely," she affirmed. "I really am sorry about your dad."
"Thanks," he murmured, tightening his hold on her to show he appreciated the sentiment.
They lay there together in silence for a few minutes, Lorelai drawing patterns on his palm with her index finger.
"Look at us! We're a pathetic double act, aren't we?" Lorelai concluded, glancing down over their prone forms.
"The worst."
"I feel like we need a name. The Connecticut Contingent of Human Catastrophes."
"Huh?"
"The US Secret Society for Lost Causes. No, too dull," she pondered. "How about Disappointments and Disasters Anonymous?"
"You're crazy; you know that, right?" Luke deadpanned.
"Looks like I've ticked off the first part of the membership criteria then. Oooh, I know! The Royal Brigade of Hopeless Cases!" she exclaimed, shifting her head to seek Luke's confirmation.
"Royal?"
"Has a better ring to it than 'defective'."
"I see. Sounds about right then," he affirmed gruffly, his eyes locking on hers. "So does this congregation have a magic password to get into meetings? Open sesame? Or some kind of secret handshake I should know about?"
Lorelai simply nodded, suddenly entranced by the magnetizing pull of his gaze.
"Yeah," she said softly, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes inadvertently darted to his lips and back up again.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she whispered, inching forward to brush her lips against his in the slightest of kisses.
"Sorry…umm, you think you could repeat that one more time? You know, just to make sure I've got it down pat," Luke returned huskily.
Heartened by his response, Lorelai leaned forward once again, this time pressing her lips firmly against his. She felt him respond immediately, deepening the kiss and tangling his fingers in her hair.
What was intended as a chaste kiss soon became heated, both Luke and Lorelai expressing all of their frustrations and reveling in the feeling of finding comfort in one another.
Lorelai's palms roamed his chest as their lips collided repeatedly, Luke gently twisting his fingers through her dark tresses as he held her to him.
"You taste incredible," Luke breathed between kisses, desperately seeking the warmth of her swollen lips once again. Lorelai merely moaned in response, drawing her body closer to his.
Finally, in desperate need of air, Luke drew back, placing his hands on her shoulders as he said firmly, "Lorelai, stop. We need to stop."
He saw the confusion in her eyes; saw the hurt as she withdrew her hands from his chest.
"You don't want me," she stated quietly. It wasn't a question so much as a statement of fact.
Luke sighed. How quick she was to question her own self-worth when her defenses were down.
"I do want you. I want you more than anything," he confessed, resting his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged. "Believe me, I've got the evidence to attest to that," he muttered, glancing down awkwardly. "But you've been drinking and I don't want to do anything you're going to regret in the morning."
"You know I'm not drunk Luke," she refuted. "I was earlier, but I'm not anymore. This isn't the alcohol talking."
"I know," he whispered, breathing hard as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tried to ignore the insistent throbbing in his jeans. "But it's been a big night for you. I want you so bad that if we go any further, I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself," he confessed.
"Then don't."
"You know I can't do that Lorelai. You're not ready."
"I want to be. It didn't feel right with Christopher. It does with you." After a few moments she added, "Can you feel that?"
He knew exactly what she was referring to: The tingling sensation that seemed to radiate from his very core to his fingertips; the raw, aching heat that consumed him; the overwhelming desire that pulsed through his veins.
It had never felt like that with Rachel. They'd been intimate countless times when they'd been a couple and the sex had been great, but it was nothing compared to the all-encompassing primal need that enveloped him now. Nothing compared to the prospect of being with Lorelai Gilmore.
"Yes," he breathed, struggling to maintain his composure. Flipping her onto her back and hovering above her, he kissed her hard one last time before saying, "No more Lorelai. Not tonight. Not tonight, okay? I don't have protection and we need to make sure you're ready when we do this. We'll see each other again and then we can think about it. One day; just not tonight."
Letting out a barely audible whimper of disappointment, Lorelai nodded, her blue eyes locking with his. There was no point arguing if he didn't have protection; she wasn't on the pill. Grabbing hold of the soft cotton of his shirt, she pulled him down to rest against her, his face burrowing into the crook of her neck as they both attempted to slow their ragged breathing.
Aware he may be crushing her with his weight, Luke rolled onto his back on the mattress and desperately tried to focus on something, anything, other than the alluring beauty lying beside him and the subsequent tightness in his jeans.
Babe Ruth's batting average was .342. The appointment with Dr Walsh is scheduled for 8am on Monday. A flock of crows is called a murder. I need to fold that basket of laundry tomorrow.
"Are you okay?" came her concerned whisper.
"Yep, just need a minute," he responded through gritted teeth, clenching his eyes shut tight. "Or 20."
She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up inside her. "Sorry, I know this must be torture for you. It just hit me how surreal this is. I never expected the night would end up like this."
"You're tellin' me," he grunted, rearranging his jeans so they were in a slightly more comfortable position.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I think you've done more than enough," he said with a pointed glare, but she could hear the humor in his tone.
"Seriously though?"
"Say something that will turn me off."
"Okay…umm…you said this was your dad's truck, yeah? Ever think that you could have been conceived in the exact spot you're lying?"
"Aw geez. I said turn me off; not scar me for life," he groaned in disgust.
Her delighted tinkle of laughter did nothing to improve his predicament. Everything she did was just so goddamn sexy, he thought exasperatedly.
"That's it. I'm taking a walk," he grunted, pulling himself into a sitting position. "You're trouble Gilmore. I'll be back in five."
Lorelai couldn't help but snicker as he gingerly swung his legs over the end of the tray.
"Hey Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"Not a bad inaugural meeting for The Royal Brigade of Hopeless Cases. Glad to see we've established some...er…hard outcomes," she said seriously, trying hard to stifle her giggles.
"Bite me," he growled while storming off, her peals of laughter following him into the night.
-o-
Author's note: Love it? Hate it? Let me know! I might add another chapter or two to this story if it's well-received. Still deciding whether to take it any further.