A/N: A short prologue if you will. For this fic I have a vague idea of where I want it to go, how I want it to end and what should happen in between, but who knows where it will all end up. I shall however, enjoy the show!
Luke rolled over onto his back, and pulled the blanket out from under his ass with a frustrated grunt. He stared up at the ceiling and started to count down in his head from a hundred, to wait and see if this nightmare would end and he would wake up in bed, alone.
87...86..85...what the hell was he thinking? He was in no way capable of satisfying her with his head spinning full of pure rage, in the way it had been this evening when she walked in.
79...78...77...of all the nights she chose to wander in to the diner and try to cheer him up, she would have to pick the night she was wearing that denim skirt and tank top. Jesus did she ever dress weather appropriate?
62...61...60...idiot! Stupid, horny, angry, idiot! Did she feel anything? Was she even close? He closed his eyes and her bored face, as he thrust into her, popped into his head making his anger bubble up all over again.
Not able to take it anymore, the silence, the distance, the breathing that wasn't ragged like it should be after sex, he kicked the blankets off and stalked over to the bathroom without looking back. He closed the door behind him with a resolute thud and peeled the condom off with a sharp tug. Tossing it into the toilet he flushed then turned to look at his dejection in the mirror.
Both of his hands gripped the sink so tight his knuckles were as white as the porcelain but his eyes, transfixed on their own reflection were still burning with fury and shame.
He wondered how long he would have to wait in here before she left, and thought briefly of testing this theory out, but before he could even think of getting comfy on the edge of the tub, he heard his apartment door slam shut. Luke froze. He listened to the silence for a moment, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his naked waist, before reaching for the door.
He couldn't remember a time when he so carefully opened his own bathroom door. He turned the handle as if it was attached to a bomb detonator, then with utmost care, he pulled it open. The room was still dark but there was enough light to see the empty bed. Still not sure she was actually gone he stepped further into the room.
"Lorelai?" he whispered, half afraid she might answer. He walked further into the room, each step assuring him she was no longer here. "Lorelai?" He looked around the apartment and sighed a little with relief.
She was gone.
His relief quickly turned to dread, and his dread turned to shame, all in a flash of hot emotions that washed over him like a technicolour wave. He went over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water which he gulped down without taking a breath, one hand gripping the edge of the counter.
With the glass drained he put it into the sink to refill and looked out the window only to spot Lorelai half walking, half running across the town square.
Her hair hung loose and wild behind her...like it had been fanned out on his pillow earlier.
Her ass swayed side to side as tried to jog without looking like she was jogging...like it had when she shimmied away from him towards his bed, his hands on her hips, tugging her closer to him.
Luke looked away, no longer willing, or able, to watch her retreat. Retreat? Frantic escape more like. He couldn't remember the last time someone had run away from his bed like that. Sure some women had left while he was sleeping, or left before he even got to sleep, but they all left with a kiss and a promise to take his call. Some even called him! he added in a lame and failed attempt to sooth his ego. He dropped the half full glass back into the sink and ignored the sound of it breaking. Instead he turned off the tap and walked back to his bed intending to drop onto the mattress, face down, but before gravity took hold he paused and started at the rumpled sheets.
With a growl he pulled them off the bed then rolled them up into a ball before he tossed them into the laundry basket. Even that made her smell fill his nostrils and he snorted to rid himself of the memory of his nose buried in the crook of her shoulder, her perfume, her shampoo...her.
Luke felt his cock twitch and it lifted his anger to a whole new level.
"Fuck."
The sound of the bathroom door clicking closed was enough to spur her into action. Lorelai leapt off the bed and snatched her skirt off the floor. She pulled it on, not bothering to fasten it fully as she rummaged for her top, tossing his jeans and shirt over her shoulder as she searched. She found her bra but no panties, was she even wearing panties she wondered but then from the corner of her eye, she saw the hot pink camisole dangling off the back of the kitchen chair where he had left it, and so she forgot all about looking for her panties and grabbed that instead.
What the hell was she thinking?! She scolded herself as she fastened her bra at her front then twisted it around and slipped her arms into the straps. She tugged on her top before the bra straps were even settled, one of the underwires cutting painfully across her breast, and crawled around on the floor for her shoes. Without bothering to to pull on her strappy sandals she risked a glance over at the bathroom, then hurried across the apartment and out the door. She was halfway down the stairs when it swung shut, with a window rattling slam, behind her.
"Dammit," she cursed, knowing he would definitely have heard that, but she didn't let it slow her escape.
She practically ran through the diner, and the ding of the bell over the door shot right through her. It was barely an hour ago when she came in through that same door, heard that same ding, and found him leaning over the counter, his arms crossed and his head buried beneath them. To be fair, the first thing she noticed was his ass, clad in soft well worn denim, but before she could offer him a comically loud wolf whistle, she noticed his clenched fists pressing into his ears.
Lorelai didn't bother looking both ways as she hurried across the road, but then this was a Tuesday evening in Stars Hollow, hardly times square. She was dying to look over her shoulder to see if his apartment lights had been turned off, to see if he was looking out his window at her retreat. Escape? She pondered as she raced past the gazebo. Was she running away? Away from Luke? Away from his apartment? Away from that look in his eye when he leaned over her.
What even was that look? Was he still angry? I mean, she argued with herself as she jumped off the curb on the opposite side of the square, my legs were wrapped around him, my heel pressed into his ass to be sure he didn't pull away as he slid into me… Lorelai felt a shiver of desire curl down her spine, but it was quickly washed away as she remembered the look on his face as he pushed into her.
When she had opened her eyes to look at him, that expression killed any sensation that had been building in her body, or to be specific she scoffed, between her legs. He looked like she had just kicked his dog. If he had a dog. Or even liked dogs. It wasn't long after that look had been shared that he pulled away and fell onto the bed beside her.
The worst thing was, she realised as she carefully stepped her way through the Henderson's back garden, avoiding the multitude of children's toys that were scattered across the lawn, was that moment after he lay on the bed, when their breathing was not ragged but still, their eyes were glued to the ceiling and not one part of their very naked bodies was touching, despite the small bed.
That wasn't how it was supposed to be. That wasn't how she imagined it would be. And she had imagined it, many times, in many different ways. Maybe their timing was off. After all this time, after all the flirtation, the glances, the near misses, the gentle knuckle brushes against her knees, her fingers on his arm. After all that, maybe this was not the right time, the right place, the right mood.
He was mad. At her? At her flirting? He didn't seem to mad at that, he seemed to enjoy it. She had only tried it to cheer him up. His fury was palpable when he first looked up and it almost made her step back, but instead she stepped closer and placed a hand on his back. Anyway, he was in that state before she even arrived, she rationalised, it couldn't have anything to do with her. At least, she decided, not this time.
Lorelai picked her way through the thick hedge at the back of the Henderson's and emerged at the bottom of Babette's garden. This time she did look both ways as she raced across it to the relative safety of her porch. Without having to dig for keys she pushed the door open, practically jumped over the threshold and slammed the door behind her, rested against it, and slid to the floor.
"Fuck."