Starts during The Incredible Sinking Lorelais. Dean never married Lindsay, but he couldn't leave for school yet due to his family's financial situation.
Well, I'm here, and your hair looks fine to me.
Lorelai couldn't sleep. What a craptastic day. Endless phone tag with Rory, the awful dinner where Gran accused her of failure, parents fighting with Gran, the tearful breakdown in front of Luke, ASKING Luke for thirty thousand dollars...but that wasn't the cause of her restlessness right now.
Dean. While begging the salon to fit her in, she noticed his tall, solid figure in the room. His friendly face smiled at her as she babbled into the cell, a face that didn't hold a sour or disappointed look when their eyes met. A tone absent of exasperation when they spoke. Seeing Dean made her feel happy and light unlike everyone else who disappointed her during the day. Lorelai was antsy. Perhaps she was overtired. For some reason, looking back on the conversation Lorelai thought, or was imagining, that Dean looked at her in a different way. No, she was tired. He wasn't checking her out. There wasn't a slight uptick in his voice, no quick smile when he commented on her hair. She felt slightly embarrassed when he complimented her greasy stringy hair. This is ludicrous. No hip hop rapper, no witty reasoning. She had to dismiss her suspicions about Dean. This was Dean. No Mrs. Robinson situation here.
Oh, well, you're very kind.
12:30 AM. Dean was uncomfortably awake, revisiting yesterday's Gilmore encounters. First he saw Lorelai, those sapphire blue eyes, so beautiful when they met his eyes. She seemed inordinately stressed about getting a haircut. How did she not know how sexy she looked with a ponytail? She said his compliment was kind. Kind wasn't what Dean felt when he said it. Rivers of sweat coursed down his back at the sight of her, thank god Tom interrupted them and pulled her from the room. Maybe he stole a peek at her ass as she walked away.
In the stillness of his bedroom, he flashed through memories of the numerous times he spent with Lorelai and Rory watching movies, and he was remembering how LORELAI looked, what she was wearing, the smell of her hair when she reached past him for the candy corn...how hot just jeans and some esoteric t-shirt made that woman look. Sweat started to dampen the sheet beneath his back.
Stop.
He shouldn't be thinking about Lorelai that way. Rory. Rory cycloned through the inn all discombobulated and when she sobbed into his shoulder, it made him sad. He cared so much about Rory, he loved her once. So small and fragile, how had she ended up here, being consoled by Dean?
Seeing the Gilmore Girls out of sorts was odd. Feeling flustered about Lorelai was even odder. Not odd in that he found her attractive, because really, what seeing, breathing man wouldn't notice how gorgeous she was? Odd that his pining for Rory switched off seemingly as soon as he heard Lorelai's banter with the beautician as she bounced into the Dragonfly hours before. Had he finally realised that Rory belonged at Yale, she wouldn't come back to Stars Hollow in any permanent way, she was a friend who existed in another place, another world from where Dean stood? Yes, he felt happy to talk to her on the phone, but seeing Lorelai yesterday, his mind went blank, his heart skipped a beat.
Dammit. The sweating, the staring, surely she noticed. Her daughter's loser ex boyfriend working at the inn, leering at her like a creep. Their encounter had to be a dream. No, he was quite awake, and clearly and correctly remembering seeing Lorelai yesterday. Today he'd have to stay away from her, no chit chat. Tom was the only person he needed to speak to while on the job to earn money for school. Dean's thoughts drifted back to Lorelai and the day he spotted her at Doose's Market from the stockroom door last Thanksgiving eve...her long lean legs stretching out of cherry red stiletto heels, the tight black skirt, tight black cardigan, those perfect breasts (how could one escape the allure of Lorelai's cleavage in that low cut cream blouse), piercing blue eyes behind naughty librarian glasses (why was it she so seldomly wore glasses?), shimmering sinful lips shouting dirty comments at Taylor to make him squirm, sleek velvety black hair that made her flawless fair skin stand out…what was she wearing when Lorelai told Dean that just because he and Rory weren't together didn't mean that they couldn't still be friends? More than friends. Stupid Dean. Get some sleep.
You emerging from the water in a wet t shirt, I was the hero of camp.
Luke embraced Lorelai yesterday. Sure it was likely a pity hug, but it felt good. Safe. Jason didn't soothe her that way. Jason made her feel desired, and she loved the lustful glint in his eyes when she stripped out of her clothes, as if he hungered for her, which was great, but she craved a feeling of security, of comfort, someone who wanted her just as she was, who cared about her in a more soulful manner. Lorelai craved the strong protective arms of someone who would save her from sadness, rescue her from loneliness. She had seen Dean sweep Rory into his arms when she was bereft, and Lorelai wanted someone like Luke, like Dean (?) to envelop her in their warm muscular arms. Blaagh! She needed sleep. A fiery blush rushed to her cheeks when she thought about bumping into Dean at work later today. "Grow up Lorelai." She squeezed a pillow to her face. Sleep would calm these nutty thoughts. Sleep or exhaustion from turning around and around and around on the bed. It was olympian how many flips she was completing without dismounting the bed.