Author: S.A.S
Ratings: PG - so far
Summary: Lorelai's vocabulary is causing Luke distress
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine *insert disappointment here* if they were Lorelai would obviously be with Luke. I'd be rich and way too busy spending money to be writing fanfic.
Archive: Only dreamtramp.com all others please ask first.
Author's Note: This is an unfinished story, consider yourself warned. Don't come whining to me about it afterwards. I borrowed a sentence from the s3 ep Happy Birthday, Baby. It was great so I couldn't resist. With that said enjoy the story.
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Damn Those Gilmores
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He was humming. He never hummed. It wasn't because he hated music, Luke did enjoy a few bands. Bands which would be better off remaining nameless as he'd never hear the end of it otherwise. But he just wasn't the chirpy humming type. Yet, this was the seventh time he caught himself humming that damned Bangles song. "This is all her fault," he muttered, while getting up on a chair to organize his wall of cups. "Ever since she and Rory went to that concert it has been 'walk like an Egyptian' this 'hero takes a fall' that. The Bangles. Ugh."
"How's the air up there?" Abruptly he turned around, causing the chair to wobble. "If you value your caffeine induced life, never do that again!" he exclaimed as he'd recovered his balance.
"Oh, so you're not happy to see me? I'm insulted. Just give me a minute to get over it." For mere seconds Lorelai stared at the ceiling. "Okay, I'm over it. I'll have one coffee and danish to go, please."
"Sure." He said swinging the drying cloth over his shoulder. He could feel her eyes on him as he poured the hot liquid into the cardboard cup.
"What no lecture today?"
"You look like you really need it." He shrugged, placing the cup in front of her along with the danish. "Anything else?" he asked as she was still standing in front of his counter. "It's just that...never mind."
"What?!"
Her face turned back into that semi- frown. "That blue cup up there, isn't it supposed to go in the upper left corner?"
He looked. 'No! The cup was upper left, like it had always been. Why had she...?' He turned back, but she was no longer there.
"Tricked ya! You metathesio-phobic," she smiled from the door. "Metathes..what?" He questioned, but the door couldn't answer him.
------*------
"Indepence Inn, Michel speaking. How may I help you?" he spoke, swallowing his h's like a true Frenchman.
"Uhm, yeah it's Luke. Is Lorelai in yet?"
"No, she is not."
"...I guess I'll try later then. Bye."
"Goodbye." Michel slammed the phone back on the receiver. Lorelai was late, presenting him with a gap of time which was long enough to read Le Monde and sip his café au lait without being bothered.
"Hey. Is Lorelai in yet?" Sookie asked.
"Do you see her standing here?" he asked rhetorically, and sighed exasperated at Sookie's confused expression. "No, she is not in yet." He gave her his best now leave me alone glare.
"When she gets in will you tell her I need her to taste the Peterson's main course?"
"No."
"Michel?!"
Without even bothering to look up from his newspaper he replied, "Yes. I will tell Lorelai about the stupid tasting. Stop bothering me, and go back to the cooking room. I am busy." From the corner of his eye he saw her go back in the direction of the kitchen. 'Where was I? Oh, yes fashion.' His eyes wondered over the page to check out the latest fashion among the French most rich and famous. He was so caught up he never even saw Lorelai come in.
"Good morning, Michel."
"Speak for yourself," he muttered, turning another page.
"I see someone hasn't had his danish this morning." Lorelai spoke cheerfully, putting away her jacket and purse.
"I hate danishes they are like bagels. They are like glue in your intestines and ensure that everything that enters your body remains there---."
"Until you die. I know." She interrupted. "Any messages?" She asked as she went through the pile of mail.
"What do you think I am? Some ordinary answering machine."
"Of course, you're not. You are my very special answering machine." She smiled widely.
"You shouldn't smile like that. What if your face freezes? I'd be stuck looking at it for all eternity." Suddenly the quarter dropped, she was intend on torturing him until he did what she wanted. Damn Her. "Very well, Sookie wants you to taste her food. And that fellow from the diner called."
"He has a name, Michel."
"The flannel guy."
Looking up from her task she shot him her I'm-not-amused look, and he quickly recovered himself. "Luke, Luke called."
"See that wasn't hard, now was it?" She picked up the horn and caught him looking at her. Unconsciously she held the horn against her chest. "You can go back to reading your paper."
"You are too kind." He moved away but remained close enough to be able to overhear whatever was being said.
"Hiya. What's up?"
"Lorelai?"
"Yes, it's me or would you rather be talking to Susannah? I could arrange it you know."
"No thanks. 'I've had enough of the Bangles already.' Tell me, what was all that metha stuff about?"
"Geez is that why you called?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's nothing for you to worry about. Now if you will excuse me I've got work to do."
------*------
Perplexed Luke looked at the phone. She hung up on him?! Calling him names and hanging up on him. He'd been called things before, but he'd always known what they meant. Being aware of Lorelai's vocabulary he knew it had to mean something silly. And her saying it was nothing to worry about didn't exactly calm him. He had to find out. Luke folded his cloth and left it on the counter.
"Hey where are you going?" Kirk shouted. "What about my breakfast?"
"Get it yourself! I'll be right back." Determined he went around the left corner. It wasn't hard to think of a place where he could find the answer. But as he was not carrying his standard anti Taylor kit there was no way he was going to the Hartford library Taylor co-funded. And that left him with just one option...Stars Hollow Books.
"Hiya Luke! I didn't know you could read," the book guy aka Andrew exclaimed as he entered.
"I didn't know you drank coffee," he nudged towards the cardboard cup from KC's tavern.
"Touché. Anything I can help you with?"
"No thanks. I'm just looking." he mumbled, and headed towards the back. His eyes skimmed the jacket's of the books. Dictionary. Dictionary. "Ah, there it is." Carefully he removed the large book from its shelve. He flipped to M.
It's wasn't there. How could it not be there?
Phobic.
Of course, a medical term how could he not have noticed before? He walked back to the front. "Say Andrew do you have a medical dictionary?"
"Nope, but I could order one for you."
"No thanks."
To Be Continued(yes, I know I'm mean)