A/N: Let's just call this "my version of the end of season five." I do not own these characters.

The Little Things

Lorelai sat on her couch, idly flipping through channels. By the time she got to HBO, she realized she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Glancing at the clock, she sighed when she saw that it was 8:00. Luke wouldn't be home for hours, and not only was she exhausted, she realized she was starving.

Meanwhile, Luke was trying to disentangle himself from the lingering dinner rush so he could get the hell out of the diner for the night, but so far, it didn't seem to be working. Cesar was having one of his klutz days, and Lane was pilfering food to bring to Zack and Brian, which didn't help his profits. He had to hand it to her, though, because she still managed to get all her orders right and not burn down the kitchen, which is more than he could say for Cesar. When the phone rang, Luke found himself actually looking forward to answering it, especially since it meant not having to deal with Kirk for a few minutes.

"Luke's."

"Hey hon," Lorelai's voice was so soft, Luke could barely hear her, but it sounded like she was about to fall asleep.

"HEY! ARE YOU OK?" shouted Luke, trying to hear her over the din of the diner.

"WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING?" Lorelai yelled back, cringing at the loudness of her own voice.

"Sorry. It's a little crazy in here right now."

"Yeah, I can hear that."

"Are you feeling ok?"

"I'm a little tired. Why?"

"You sound like you're about to drop dead."

"Gee, thanks. When are you coming home?"

"As soon as I can get Kirk to stop slurping his milk."

"Awww. Did he order milk and separated Oreos again?"

"Yep."

"You're like his really cool babysitter that lets him eat all the junk food."

"And you wonder why I hate kids."

"They're not all like Kirk. Some actually grow up."

"So, was there a purpose for this phone call, or are you just trying to distract me long enough to not notice how much stuff Lane is stealing?"

"Yes, it is our master plan. Every night, Lane and I work on the blueprints for our house made of sugar packets and ketchup."

"Lorelai."

"Fine. All I wanted to tell you is that if you bring me a cheeseburger, I'll try and stay awake long enough to eat it when you get home," Lorelai said, trying to speak and yawn at the same time.

"You got it. You want anything else?"

"Just you."

Luke sighed as he hung up the phone and looked out at the now dissipating crowd. Unfortunately, Kirk was still working on his cookies, looking at Luke expectantly.

"What, Kirk?"

"Was that Lorelai on the phone?" asked Kirk.

"Yes, Kirk," said Luke, exasperated.

"What did she want?"

"What makes you think I'm going to tell you that?"

Kirk sheepishly looked down at his plate, which is now empty. "All done," he exclaimed, and ceremoniously got up to leave.

"Congratulations, Kirk. Now go, before I make you."

"Bye Luke." Kirk scurried out of the diner.

Luke wearily watched him and glanced around at the rest of the remaining customers. "God, don't these people have, like, families to hang out with, or TV shows to watch or something?" he asked no one in particular.

Lane heard this, and rushed over to him.

"Luke, you should go home," she encouraged, "Cesar and I have this covered."

Just then, a crash came from the kitchen. Lane rushed into the back. Luke followed her, but she pushed him out. "Go."

"You sure –"

"—GO!"

Luke hurried off, afraid to look behind him, for fear of getting sucked back in.

Luke walked into the house some twenty minutes later, and found Lorelai sprawled across the couch. One leg hanging off the couch, the other propped onto a cushion, an ice pack and an arm splayed across her forehead. A Sex and the City rerun blared in the background, but without Lorelai's usual running commentary on the insipidness of the characters, because she was fast asleep.

Luke chuckled a little at the sight of her, turned off the TV and turned off a harsh over head light. He put her dinner on the coffee table, squatted in front of her, and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

Lorelai smiled and opened her eyes, removing the now warm ice pack from her head.

"Hey," Luke drawled, "what's with the ice pack?"

"I had a headache. What time is it?"

Glancing at his watch, Luke smiled and said, "8:45."

"God, I can't believe I conked out again. Seriously, I think I have a disease. It's been like this every night this week. I come home, I e-mail Rory, I turn on thetelevision and before I can tell Sarah Jessica to shut the hell up, I'm asleep. Hey – you came home early."

Instead of answering her, Luke said, "I brought dinner."

"You rock."

"Yes, but you didn't hold up your end of the deal."

"My what?"

"You were supposed to stay awake long enough to eat it. Now, seeing as you're an 85 year old and can't stay up past 8, maybe you should just go to bed and wait for breakfast."

"How can you be so mean to me when I just told you I think I have a disease?"

"Yeah, it's called 'you eat too much junk food and drink too much caffeine."

"So what'd you bring me?"

"You're looking at it."

"Normally, that kind of blatant flirting would totally get me into bed. But I'm so hungry I'm going to die, so hand over the burger."

Luke realized that this is the point where if he doesn't do what he's told, he might get seriously injured, so he reached behind him and handed over a Styrofoam container.

"Bless you, Luke," mumbled Lorelai, as she bit into the cheeseburger.

Luke regarded her for a moment, and then something dawned on him. "Wait a minute. Is this like the last time you told me you had a headache?"

Lorelai nearly choked on the burger, looking at Luke incredulously.

Luke gave her an evil smile.

"That's not even funny, Luke. God, what is wrong with you?" asked Lorelai, throwing a french fry at him.

"You're so funny when you think I'm mad at you."

"You're cruel."

"I'm going to bed. Care to join me?"

"No way. I'm still eating, and now I'm mad at you."

Luke got up and started towards the stairs, stopping to run his fingers through Lorelai's hair and plant a kiss on the back of her neck. "See you upstairs," he whispered.

The next morning, Lorelai crawled out of bed while Luke was still dead to the world. Or so she thought.

"What are you doing?" grumbled Luke.

"I have to go to work," said Lorelai sweetly, "go back to sleep."

"Lorelai," Luke said, glancing at the clock, "it's 6:30 in the morning."

"I know this."

"So, I repeat – what are you doing?"

"I can't sleep," Lorelai whined, "I went to sleep at, like, 8 last night, which is all your fault, by the way, so now I'm wide awake. God, this sucks. Now my whole schedule is all messed up."

"How is this my fault?"

"I don't know. I needed someone to blame."

"Can I make it up to you?"

"However are you going to do that?" Lorelai flirted, standing at the foot of the bed, clad only in Luke's flannel shirt.

Luke sat up and pulled her on top of him. "Have I ever told you how sexy you look in my shirt?"

Lorelai giggled. "No," she said, in between kisses, "I don't believe you have."

Later, when she was on her way to work, Lorelai felt the need to share her good mood with someone. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her favorite – well make that only – daughter. Suffice it to say that sometime in the recent past, Rory had stopped being her favorite person in the world, but was still the only person Lorelai ever wanted to share a good mood with. Besides Luke, of course, but when said good mood involved gushing over Luke, she couldn't exactly share that with said boyfriend, now could she? Not in public at least.

Rory picked up the phone, not sounding too happy. "What, mom?"

"Hey there. I just wanted to share my glorious morning with you, that's all."

"Well, can you do that later? I was studying until late last night, and I don't have class till noon, which means you are –"

"- waking you up. Sorry babe."

Just then, Lorelai heard a distinctly male voice in the background. "Who's that?" it said.

"It's my mom," she heard Rory say, and thought she detected a hint of disdain in her voice.

"Is that Logan?" asked Lorelai into the phone, not quite sure Rory would even hear her.

"Um, yeah."

"It's pretty early for Logan to be there, isn't it?"

"Mom, stop it."

"Fine, but Rory, I just…"

"… goodbye, Mom. I'll talk to you later." And with that, she was gone. "Buzzkill," mumbled Lorelai into the dead phone.

Lorelai couldn't help feeling like she was losing her daughter piece by piece. Sighing, she wondered what was wrong with her. This was Rory – her beautiful, brilliant daughter, her best friend (hmm. Maybe not anymore. But Lorelai refused to let herself dwell on that part, because it was entirely too depressing.) She deserved to be happy. She's allowed to have a boyfriend. She's allowed to have sex – she's halfway through college, for godsakes. So what was wrong with Lorelai that she couldn't just indulge Rory, just for a little while?

It was that Logan kid, that's what. "He's trouble," thought Lorelai, as she neared the inn. That's about as far as she got though, because she was approaching the porch of the Dragonfly, where Michel stood, impatiently tapping his foot.

"What's up, Michel?" asked Lorelai with a sigh.

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago," screeched Michel, his accent getting worse the angrier he got, "but instead, I had to deal with Manny, the chef extraordinaire who knows nothing, and Sookie wondering where you were every five seconds. Oh yeah, and your mother called."

"Great. What did she say?"

"She said she doesn't think you avoiding her phone calls is funny anymore, and you better not call her back until you are ready to apologize."

"Oh good. So I don't have to talk to her ever again. That was exactly my plan. Get back inside, Michel."

Lorelai trailed Michel as he angrily stomped inside, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw a well groomed man in a business suit standing at the front desk.

"Oh no! Is that Mike? How long has he been here?"

"I told you, you were supposed to be here half an hour ago."

"Michel!" hissed Lorelai, "why didn't you call me?"

"I did. It was busy," said Michel.

"Great," muttered Lorelai.

Lorelai managed to pull herself together, apologized profusely to Mike, and the two set off for Weston's so they could chat. "Michel," said Lorelai sweetly, "please watch the desk while Mr. Armstrong and I have a meeting. I'll be back shortly."

Michel pouted behind the desk.

Later, as Lorelai made her way through town, all she could think about was coffee, and maybe a hug, from Luke. She wondered how a day that started out so good could turn so stressful.

As she walked in and sat down at the counter, she saw Luke approaching. "Thank god. Someone who actually likes me."

"And who would that be?"

"Funny."

"Bad day?"

"Ugh. First with Rory and that boyfriend of hers, then with Michel and his accent, and then with my mother and her existing."

"So you and Rory are still having a thing, huh?"

"This is not a thing. This is a… I don't know, what's bigger than a thing?"

"I don't know."

"Well, whatever is bigger than a thing, that's what this is."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"It's just… he's not right for her. He's trouble."

"You know, you said the same thing about Jess," Luke pointed out.

"Yeah, and we saw how well that ended."

"Good point, I guess."

"It's just… it's not my place to tell her who she can and cannot date. I'm not Emily. But isn't it my job to point out when I think my daughter is about to get into some real trouble?"

"Yes, absolutely.

"But how can I do that, Luke?"

Lorelai looks at him appreciatively, and then goes back to contemplating her coffee. When she realizes there's nothing in it, she jumps out of her seat.

"Oh my god, I've been here forever. I have to get back to the inn. Dinner tonight, Luke? It's on me."

"Really? What's the occasion?"

"I actually have something I need to talk to you about."

"You're actually a spy?"

"You really need to stop watching Alias."

"See you later."

Lorelai starts towards the door, but turns around just before exiting. "Hey, Luke?"

Luke looks up.

"Thanks," whispers Lorelai.

"Anytime," he says, even though he's not exactly sure what she's thanking him for.