Lorelai Gilmore was never a morning person, even on a good day, but this morning was different, even with her curtains shut she felt the cracks of sunlight filtering through them like lasers searing through her eyelids and making her temples ache, the sound of a passing car was like a stream train screaming into one ear, through her brain and continuing out the other. Her throat was like sandpaper when she swallowed and her nose felt simultaneously blocked and runny. She rolled over to look at her alarm clock, squinting against the light that rushed her pupils as she opened her eyes. 7:47, 'Great' she thought to herself, 'I'm supposed to be at the inn in 13 minutes'. She silently cursed her alarm for not going off, then shutting her eyes tightly she took a moment before willing herself to get up. Swinging her legs off the bed and standing in one swift motion, it was a moment or two before she realized that she would not be going to work today. Rory had already left for school, she had an early meeting at school and had had the presence of mind not to wake her mother before leaving.

Her head felt like it weighed a ton, and she couldn't seem to get her balance, her knees buckled and she fell, thankfully back into her bed. Keeping her eyes shut she fumbled around on her bed-side table, knocking a bottle of water and sending her lip gloss clear across the room, she finally located the phone and from memory dialed the familiar number, her face contorted into a pained grimace.

'Independence Inn, Michel speaking' came the familiar voice, it sounded to Lorelai like it was coming from inside her head.

'Michel' she rasped, then coughed, trying to clear her throat. It didn't help. 'I won't be coming in today, sick' was all she could manage, her hand finding its way to her forehead she felt herself burning up, despite the chill she was feeling.

'I am sorry sir, but who ever you are we do not require your services, I suggest you try…'

Lorelai cut him off 'Cut it Michel, it's me Lorelai, your boss, the one that signs your paychecks and is responsible for your job security, a rare commodity in these volatile times. Need I remind you there are obnoxious Europeans lined up around the corner that would die for the chance to do your job; being rude to customers and annoying the crap out of me, perhaps in an Italian accent rather than French, but you know it's all the same to us ignorant Americans, so unless you want me to call Giuseppe and let him know the job is all his, do me a favor and let Sookie know I won't be in today'

'But of course' Michel replied 'Get well' he added sweetly, hanging up the phone and glaring at it before leaving to the kitchen to inform Sookie of the news

Lorelai immediately regretted her decision to attempt a rant at Michel, not because he would be hurt or offended but because it had sapped her last ounce of strength and she would now need to take a break before making the next phone call. So after lying, unable to move for about 15 minutes she dialed the other familiar number.

'Luke's diner' thank god he had picked up, she didn't think she could waste more energy explaining to Cesar that she needed to speak to Luke.

'Luke' She mumbled 'Trains in my ears, bricks in my head, sandpaper in my throat…' she trailed off

'Lorelai? Is that you?' He was finding it difficult to identify the voice given its rasping quality, but the incoherent mumbling he could recognize from a mile away

'It hurts' She whined

'What hurts?' He asked patiently, he wasn't too worried Lorelai was a nothing if not prone to exaggeration; she probably just had the flu.

'Everything' she managed before breaking into a coughing fit.

'Ok, I'll be right over, don't move' Luke hung up the phone.

'Wasn't planning on it' Lorelai mumbled to no one in particular, before letting her arm, that had been cradling the phone, collapse back onto the bed

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The turning of the handle of the front door and the gradual creaking as it opened pulled Lorelai from her semi-conscious semi-comatose state and dragged her back to reality – painfully.

'Lorelai?' came the expected voice

'Shhhhhhhh' she groaned as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. 'Were the steps always this loud?' she thought to herself 'Mental Note; Ask Luke to make stairs quieter – somehow'

As Luke approached the bedroom door he was shocked to see just how bad she was looking and felt slightly guilty that he hadn't gotten here faster. He was at her bedside in an instant feeling her forehead, checking her temperature. His hand felt pleasantly cool to Lorelai's burning skin and she opened her eyes slightly, trying to smile but managing only a grimace.

'Hey' She mumbled

'Hey' he replied softly 'What seems to be the problem?'

'My head hurts, my ears hurt, my throat hurts, my nose is all stuffy, I'm hot and I'm cold at the same time don't feel well, and my throat KILLS when I swallow' As she told Luke her list of symptoms she began to be aware of just how sick she was, it all suddenly hit her and before she knew what was happening her lip began to quiver and tears began involuntarily running down her cheeks. She was not normally one to cry and somewhere inside her non-sick self was shocked at the open display of emotion, but her sick self was feeling tired and weak and wanted someone to look after her

Luke jumped straight into action, caught slightly off guard by the sudden tears 'Okay, your sheets are soaked and so are you' he said, running his hand over her sheets and once again, across her forehead, 'which means you're also probably very dehydrated, so why don't we get you showered and into clean clothes, then I'll change the sheets and get you some water' He began easing her off the bed until she was in a sitting position

Lorelai was grateful for any sort of plan that didn't involve lying still and wallowing in her sickness and discomfort, and allowed her full weight to lean on Luke as he brought her up toward him. She looked at him, touched at the concern in his eyes 'Hey' she said again, this time having been brought back to reality enough to actually see him

'Hey' he replied again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, it was an extremely tender gesture, uncharacteristic of both Luke and he and Lorelai's friendship, he frowned slightly, wondering if it had put her off but she seemed to be gazing at him through a haze of sickness and he figured she probably wasn't overly concerned about the unofficial boundaries they had put up between them at that point.

They sat like that for the briefest of moments, until Luke noticed Lorelai's eyes begin to fade away as the strength it took even to hold her head up began to take its toll, her head dropping to his shoulder.

'Ok, so maybe the shower's not going to happen right now, why don't we at least change your pajamas and I'll get you that water'

Laying her down carefully on the bed, Luke went to the drawer where he guessed Lorelai kept her pajamas, he selected a pair of cotton boxers and a white tank not wanting her to be too hot. Pretending he didn't see the more suggestive items in the drawer he returned to her on the bed. Lifting her into a half-sitting position again he let her rest on him while he carefully began to slide her t-shirt upwards.

Doing his best to convince himself that seeing Lorelai topless would not phase him at all he took a deep breath and steadied his thoughts, making himself concentrate on how sick Lorelai was, rather than how naked she was about to be.

'Up' he said gently, indicating that she needed to lift her arms so he could get her t-shirt off. With what felt like a superhuman effort, she succeeded in raising her arms slightly, allowing Luke to peel off her shirt. Lorelai wasn't the type of person to get embarrassed by nudity, but all the same she was not relishing the notion of being half naked in bed with Luke under these circumstances. 'And what circumstances would you rather?' she vaguely thought to herself.

For his part, anything remotely sexual was the furthest thing from Luke's mind as Lorelai collapsed back into him before he could replace her t-shirt with the singlet he had brought her. He allowed her to lean on him for a few minutes, rubbing small circles at the small of her bare back, waiting for her to regain enough strength so he could redress her. It all felt disconcertingly comfortable to Luke, Lorelai half nude in his arms, stroking her bare skin and inhaling her scent as she leaned into him. Lorelai, safely back behind her sickness haze was only vaguely aware of how comforting this position was, she hadn't been held by a man this way for longer than she cared to admit, and Luke smelled like a nice mixture of baby powder (why did Luke smell like baby powder?) and the diner.

As she sat, her head in the crook of his neck her mind was swimming with visions of Luke and how wonderful he was to her. She wondered vaguely if he knew how grateful she was to him, under all the banter and teasing he knew how much she loved meant to him right? She realized he probably didn't, because she hadn't told him. She resolved to tell him when it was slightly more appropriate, that is when she wasn't half conscious and could explain to him clearly and concisely exactly how grateful she was for his help around the house, with Rory and mostly with the coffee. Well clarity and conciseness had never been her strong point but she would try her best to get the point across with a minimum of sarcasm and inane pop culture references. After making the resolution her head her mind began to drift off behind the haze. Luke gently he pushed her away, just enough so that he could roll the singlet over her head, gently bringing her arms through the holes and letting her fall back against the wall of pillows he had laid against her headboard. Next he gingerly untied the waste band of the sweat pants she was wearing and replaced them with the cotton shorts.

Her legs were amazing, long, lean and he had no idea how considering her stance on exercise and her ridiculously unhealthy diet, he let his mind wander for a moment as he took in the full length of her legs. He felt slightly guilty that he was having impure thoughts as she lay there so sick and helpless, and he chastised himself for having them at all, Lorelai was beautiful, any man could see that, but she was so much more and that's what a lot of the others didn't see. That's what made him different, that's why he had been in her life for 6 years, while the others had come and gone. He managed to tear his eyes away from her thighs and up to her face

'You feeling a little more comfortable now?' He asked

'Mm-hm'

'Okay, we have to let some air in here, I'll just open the window a bit, then go downstairs and get you some water'

He knew she was sick when she didn't even complain about the light that came flooding in when he opened the curtains, he closed them slightly back over the open window then went downstairs.

When he returned to her bedroom he could not help but take a moment to look at Lorelai, asleep on the bed, hair falling slightly onto her face. She looked sick all right, her face was paler than usual and her forehead was coated with a thin layer of perspiration, her breathing was slightly labored and she did not look as at peace, her brow slightly furrowed and her body restless. He saw that a draught was beginning to come through the open window, blowing her hair slightly and he went to shut it, the noise waking her in the process.

Despite the fact that she was sweating she began to shiver as she murmured 'I'm cold'

He went to her drawer of sweat shirts, looking for something for her to wear when he saw a familiar plaid shirt stuffed between her Harvard sweat shirt a hideous Christmas-themed knitted sweater he had never seen before.

'Hey! I've been looking for this' he protested, 'How did you get it?'

'Mm…you left it here one day' she sat up slightly reaching her arms out for it 'I meant to give it back to you but then it was laundry day and I had nothing else to wear and it looked so comfortable so I put it on'… she trailed off and he continued looking at her expectantly

'…and well let's just say I can see why you practically live in those shirts because honestly, it's like being able to wear your pyjamas in public!' She coughed, softly at first but gradually her fit turned violent and she was bent over, clutching the flannel shirt to her chest and trying to control to violent spasms racking her body.

Once she calmed down she managed a smile as she slipped the shirt on, wrapping herself in it. She shook her head stubbornly when he held the glass of water out to her

'It hurts when I swallow' she protested

'I know, you've probably got a throat infection, tonsillitis or something, but if you don't drink fluids you won't get better, then you'll never get out of bed, and then I will ring your mother and tell her you're sick, and she will come over and you'll be too sick to defend yourself against her tirade that will probably be about how it's your fault you got sick because you don't eat enough vegetables, and you drink too much coffee, and you eat too many pop tarts and –'

'Hey! My mother doesn't even know what a pop-tart is, let alone that I eat too many of them, you were just lecturing me indirectly, through my mother, who you a crap job of impersonating by the way, and I know this is all my fault, the pop tarts, the coffee, the twinkies and the rest of the buttery-chocolatey goodness that is my life, but I always eat that stuff, and I never get sick'

Her power-nap seemed to have revived her somewhat and she grudgingly took the glass from Luke, though it seemed impossibly heavy she took a few sips, wincing at the feeling in her throat when she swallowed, then held the glass back out to him, he seemed satisfied, placed it beside her bed and began smoothing the bedclothes, trying to make sure Lorelai was comfortable.

She was about to tell him to stop fussing, that she was fine, when suddenly she did not feel so fine. She felt her stomach arguing with the water she had just drunk, telling it to evacuate. The water was being stubborn for a minute, it didn't want to go, but her stomach was pretty adamant, if the water didn't want to go her stomach was going to force it.

'Luke, bucket!' She gestured urgently to the trash-can under her dressing table. Luke was on it, and just in time the bin was underneath her as Lorelai bent over the side of her bed. Luke held the bucket with one hand and Lorelai's hair (clumsily) in the other. When the water was all back up she continued retching for a while, wanting desperately for something, anything to come out of her to satisfy her abdominal muscles which were in spasms. This was not fun, not fun at all, she couldn't understand why she was still throwing up, there was nothing left inside her, but she continued to heave, her stomach muscles contracting painfully. She finally leant back, spent, tears running down her face from sheer frustration, ribs and head aching from the pressure. Torn between comforting her and wanting to dispose of the contents of the bucket Luke eventually decided to rinse out the bucket in case she needed it again.

While he was in the bathroom, Lorelai was lying down, feeling sorry for herself. She did not often get sick and hated it when she did, being such an independent person most of the time she found it difficult to rely on anyone so completely as she was right then. If things got bad enough Mia had been there while Rory was growing up, and as Rory got older she was able to take care of Lorelai herself, but the thought of relying on a boyfriend when she was sick was a foreign concept. 'Hang on a second? Had she just called Luke her boyfriend, no, she meant boy-friend, a friend who was a boy. Surely…' she thought to herself. She had surprised herself by calling Luke that morning, it had been a natural instinct and that it seemed so natural was what was so surprising. She hadn't worried that he would see her at her worst, she hadn't worried that she would be being a burden, she realized she had an implicit trust in Luke that went further than even she realized.

Luke returning from the bathroom, gave Lorelai a sympathetic look, sat down next to her and placed the newly cleaned bucket on the floor next to the bed.

'How you doing there?' he asked earnestly

'I'm tired… just wanna sleep' she replied, letting her eyes close

'Okay, buckets here if you need it, I'm just gonna call Cesar, tell him I need him to cover for me today' She didn't hear him, back in her fitful sleep Luke left her room to make the call, not wanting to disturb her.

When he returned she seemed to be sleeping more peacefully, Luke was glad, he didn't like seeing her this sick, not that he was scared there was something seriously wrong, he just didn't like to see her suffering. She was normally so alive, so full of energy, it was especially difficult to see her so subdued. After watching her for a while, his mind wandering, he moved around the other side of the bed, and careful not to wake her, took off his shoes and sat down in the armchair next to her bed. Picking up one of the trashy magazines on her nightstand he settled in.

About an hour later he hears Lorelai begin to toss and turn, she threw the covers off herself in her sleep and muttered something about being hot. She continued to toss restlessly for a while before pulling off his flannel shirt and her shorts in a frustrated state of semi consciousness before collapsing back into the bed. After that she seemed to sleep a little better again and Luke went back to focusing on the Ashton and Demi scandal.

'The tabloids can be so harsh, so what if she has a boy toy, let the girl have her fun! I mean I should be so lucky as to score someone like that in a few years' Luke hadn't even noticed Lorelai had woken up, being too engrossed in trying to figure out which Olsen twin it was that had the eating disorder

'What? Hey, how you feeling?' he asked turning toward her, eyebrows raised in a question

'Pretty crappy, but relative to this morning just dandy.'

It was almost one o'clock and Lorelai had slept for a good 3 hours, she seemed to be feeling a little better, judging by her gentle teasing, but she still sounded like a 70 year smoke suffering from emphezema, some colour had come back to her cheeks but her temperature was still higher than Luke would have liked.

'You hungry?' he asked, when her latest coughing fit had subsided

'No, and even if I was I wouldn't eat because throwing up is so not fun and if I don't put anything down there, then nothing can try to come back up'

'It won't matter if you eat anything or not, you're throwing up is triggered by the mucus which is making its way into your stomach every time you swallow, your stomach is rejecting the mucus by throwing it up, and it just so happens that everything you have eaten or drunk comes back up with it'

'Well, as informative and charming as that explanation of my bodily function was Dr. Danes, I still don't want to eat anything, because, as I said, I'm not hungry'

'You have to eat and drink, to give your body the energy to fight off the infection.' He put his hand up, to stop her from interjecting 'And I don't want to hear any whining, don't want to see any pouty faces or hair flipping, you will eat and you will drink and that is the end of it'

'I didn't know the hair flipping thing worked with you? I thought you were impervious to my devilish charm' She asked, clearly fishing for compliments

He let her have this one, mostly because she was sick and he felt bad for her

'You'd be surprised how persuasive you can be, even when you're sick… ' She smiled, but he continued with a smirk 'Especially when you're lying in bed with nothing but a little tank top on.'

She flushed, she hadn't realized she had practically undressed herself in her sleep. She recovered quickly, and muttering the word 'Dirty' under her breath. He rolled his eyes before going downstairs to fix them something to eat.