Set during mid season 3, no Alex, no Nicole.
Thanks so much to Squid and Jewels for their encouragement, and thanks to Jewels for her helpful advice and comments!
Chapter 1: The Guitar Man
The front lawn of the Crap Shack was uncharacteristically busy. In one corner stood Hep Alien, weighing in at an impressive decibel level as they argued over set lists. In the other corner, Luke methodically hammered the porch rail, glancing over at the bickering band of teens every few moments.
Luke roughly pulled the almost-mended porch rail, testing its durability while still looking over his shoulder, trying to overhear the argument.
"Hey, you! I'm not paying you to just stand around!" Lorelai called out, coming to a stop in front of him.
"You're not paying me," Luke grumbled, tugging at the railing again.
"Oh…right." Lorelai smiled, her eyes lighting up as Luke rolled his eyes at her antics.
"What's going on over there?" Luke asked after a moment, jerking a thumb back in the direction of Lane and Dave. Lorelai let out a giggle and leaned in conspiratorially.
"Hep Alien may be going through a Talking Heads, post '91 phase. I hope Brian goes solo." Luke stared at her blankly before dropping his gaze back to the porch rail.
"What are they doing in your garage, anyway?" he asked, curiously looking over his shoulder again.
"Band practice. They needed a place far enough away from Mrs. Kim to be safe from hell dogs, but close enough to Stars Hollow…"
"So you figured you'd be Lane's enabler."
"Exactly." Lorelai watched Luke for a moment, as he continued to crane his neck to see into the garage.
"Why so curious, George?" Upon her inquiry, Luke's attention immediately went to the porch rail.
"Ah, you know. I was just, uh, wondering," he mumbled, brow furrowed in concentration as he picked at the chipped paint, his cheeks burning red. Lorelai studied him closely, trying to catch his eye, but his focus never wavered.
"So… I'll be in there if you need anything." She pointed over her shoulder. Luke gave his patented grunt of acknowledgement, and Lorelai made her way inside the house. She glanced back once more in time to see Luke look toward the garage again.
"Huh." Lorelai frowned in confusion, and reached for the door handle.
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Luke walked back to the diner that afternoon in a daze. His hands were clenched at his sides, fighting against the pent up energy that made his fingers itch. Seeing Lane's band, the guitars lined up against the garage wall, had reignited in him that familiar urge to pick up a guitar and just play for the hell of it.
He had started to play guitar when his father was sick. It helped to be able to throw all of his worry and frustration into something productive. He'd sit by his father's bed, the worn old acoustic propped up in his lap, and he'd play. At first, it wasn't pretty, all sloppy chord progressions and wrong notes. But then he'd gotten the hang of it, and learned what sounded good; what worked and what didn't. By the next year, he could sit down at any given moment and play out a different melody every time. He hadn't ever technically written a song, but only for lack of proximity to paper and pen. In his mind, he had them all stored away. But when his father died, the music was edged out by bigger, more pressing concerns. The old acoustic had sat in the corner to collect dust.
Until today.
He held it in his hands again, the worn wood comfortable in his palms, the strings supple from years of use. He strummed an open chord, and winced as not one of those strings were in tune. He closed his eyes, hummed a low E and fiddled with the tuning pegs, reacquainting his fingers with the fret board.
He started with a soft, easy series of chords, with a few picks and solos thrown in to jog his memory. It felt good to play again, to hear the music again.
"Hi there, Uncle Luke." Luke's eyes popped open, and he threw the guitar down to the bed behind him, cheeks burning red. Jess's smirk only grew.
"Don't call me that." Luke was able to muster through his embarrassment, standing to fidget with the bed cover.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you prefer 'The Boss?'" Jess remarked, arms crossed over his chest.
"Jess…" Luke growled in warning, shooting him a look as he propped the guitar up against the wall again.
"No, I think it's great, really. You're finally learning how to express yourself," Jess said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Okay, listen…" Luke started, but Jess cut him off, putting a hand on Luke's shoulder.
"Oprah would be proud."
"That's it, get downstairs. Now," Luke barked, and Jess retreated, shoulders shrugged.
"I understand, the creative process is a very…"
"Now!"
With Jess' departure, Luke dropped back onto the bed, the embarrassment lingering. He just wanted to play the damn guitar, in peace, without the risk of being mocked. That ruled out the apartment, or anywhere within a hundred yards of Jess. He studied his hands as he thought; the indentations from the strings still fresh on the pads of his fingers.
And then he remembered Lorelai's garage- where Lane's band stored their equipment, Fenders stacked up against the walls. He could sneak over during a lull, when Lorelai and Rory were out for the day. No, not only would he get flack from Jess for leaving, he'd get interrogated by Lorelai, whose visits usually coincided with lulls. The middle of the day was out.
But maybe, if he waited until they were both asleep, he could play at night. Lorelai and Rory slept like the dead; there was almost no chance they would wake up.
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Lorelai woke up to a foreign noise emanating from somewhere in or around her front lawn. It was a soft, thrumming melody, and Lorelai initially assumed that Rory had accidentally left her stereo on. She groaned and rolled over to check the clock. The red numbers glowed 2:26 am, mocking her. She sighed heavily and rolled off of the bed, clumsily landing on a lone shoe and falling forward. She steadied herself on the bedside table and groaned in frustration.
"Rory, you better not be sleeping through this," Lorelai mumbled as she made her way toward the kitchen. Before she reached Rory's door, she realized the sound wasn't coming from Rory's room, or even a stereo. Passing through the living room, she checked the TV over her shoulder, still trying to pinpoint the source of the music. She walked into the foyer, and the distinct wop-wop-wop of an electric guitar reached her ears.
Her mouth turned down in a confused pout, and she poked her head out of the door. The music grew louder with each step she took onto the porch. Her ears led her straight to the garage, which seemed to be the source of the sound. Lorelai rolled her eyes and got ready to tell either Dave or Zach to go home and sleep, with a few choice profanities thrown in for good measure. The door stood open, allowing the moonlight to seep in, and as Lorelai approached she was able to hear a low, rumbling voice softly crooning along with a complex line of complementing notes. She had to admit, it sounded beautiful, and completely unlike anything she'd heard Lane's band mates ever play.
She leaned against the doorframe of the garage, mesmerized by what she found inside. Luke stood in the middle of the floor, Dave's guitar resting across his hips, his back to her. He swayed lightly, shifting his weight from one foot to another in time with the music that flowed from the guitar. Her gaze fell to his left hand; his long, tapered fingers swiftly moved across the fret board. His hand looked so relaxed as it moved from note to note, stringing them together with slides and vibrato.
She stood, transfixed, unable to tear her eyes or ears away. A part of her, the five-year-old part, wanted to mock him until the sun came up, and then some. But then there was the part of her that couldn't help but watch him; the part of her that was completely in awe of him.
She pushed off of the doorjamb, intending to announce her presence, but there was something so peaceful about the scene in front of her that she couldn't bring herself to interrupt. She watched him for a moment longer, memorizing the slight hunch of his broad shoulders, the way his head was bowed to supervise the swift dance of his fingers over the strings. She stepped out of the doorway and sat down outside, leaning her back up against the garage, and listened.
He played for close to an hour, and never any song that Lorelai recognized. She had stayed for the duration of his playing with her eyes closed, letting the music wash over her. She couldn't fathom that this was Luke -- diner Luke, friend Luke, grumpy, curmudgeonly Luke that was putting together these soft, soothing melodies, seemingly out of thin air. She found herself repeatedly peeking through the doorframe, needing to see him to believe it. He sang along with the melodies in the barest of whispers, too soft and deep for Lorelai to be able to make out the words. Her curiosity was piqued. How long had he been able to do this? Why had no one told her that Luke was a guitar god? She leaned forward to catch a glimpse of him again. He had turned around, and Lorelai thought for a moment she had been busted. But he continued to play, and she noticed that his eyes were closed. His fingers still moved at rapid speed, almost of their own accord, as his lips moved in time with the beat.
"Mm, yeah…" Luke's voice, for the first time, was loud and clear enough for Lorelai to hear. He didn't sound like Luke, though. His voice was low and rasping, gravelly but shockingly smooth. Lorelai involuntarily purred at the sound, and Luke's eyes popped open. His fingers stilled, and Lorelai cursed under her breath. She scrambled to stand and hide herself from view as Luke shrugged out of the guitar strap, setting the instrument back against the wall. He walked out of the garage, and immediately looked toward Lorelai's window, then Rory's. Dark. He let out a shaky sigh of relief, walked back into the garage, and switched off the amp. Lorelai took the opportunity to scurry back to the safety of her room.
She shut the door to her bedroom behind her, and finally had the courage to inhale. She walked to the window and looked out, where she saw Luke's retreating form as he walked away, down the street, and into the night.
She flopped down onto her mattress and rubbed her eyes, willing herself back into the safety of sleep, where friends didn't moan at the sound of other friends' voices and where Luke's sounds weren't so sexy.
tbc...