Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words.

Author's Note: This story started as a discussion in the L/L thread at TWoP about what it would take for either Luke or Lorelai to make a 'first move.' I wrote this for tipsy, because this particular scenario was her idea. Huge thanks to CineFille, Lula Bo and iheartbridges for the wonderful beta work (even though they make me write more!).


He sees her as soon as he comes down to open up the diner. She's outside pacing, and he watches for a moment from the darkened diner. After moving back and forth in front of the window a few times she stops and sits down on the steps, hugging her coat tightly around her.

It is no longer an unusual occurrence for Lorelai to come into the diner. Over the last month she's been dropping by for meals more and more often, and they've been gradually rebuilding a friendship that is at once familiar and awkward. Last night, she'd been more down than he had seen in a very long time, though she'd tried to cover it with self-deprecating humor like some sort of hapless character in a cheesy sitcom. He'd had a sense from her deflated demeanor that her parents had done something at their Friday night dinner to make her feel small and insignificant, but she'd spoken only in the most general terms about the mess she'd made of her life.

It was a conversation they'd had before, in different ways, but this time it had taken a turn, becoming suddenly and briefly more honest than either one of them had intended. Then, just as quickly, she'd become flustered and changed the topic to something less personal for the remainder of her visit. And because of that, he can't imagine what she's doing here now, sitting on the diner steps before six in the morning.

He's no sooner cemented in his mind the image of her huddled on the step then when she hops up to begin pacing again. Her movements are full of frenetic energy and he has a sense she's been here for a while. Before she can sit and begin the cycle again, he crosses the diner and yanks the door open.

"Lorelai?"

Though it seems clear that she's waiting for him, his presence startles her. "Luke," she says, almost tripping on the step as she turns toward him.

He comes all the way out of the diner, letting the door fall shut behind him and then leaning against it, watching her as she stands one step below him. He doesn't know what to make of her presence, particularly because she's clearly wearing pajamas, or at least pajama bottoms. They've got pink and purple geometric shapes scattered across them, and even so it strikes him that they're not nearly as whimsical as the ones she'd normally wear. He looks down at the sneakers on her feet and up to where she's pulled her hair into a messy knot on the back of her head. "What are you doing here?" he finally asks.

"Looking for you, I guess," she says, then gives a little huff of a laugh. "I was walking for a bit down by the fruit streets. I couldn't remember whether Cherry came before or after Pear and I knew I should remember because I've been living here how long? So, I went to find out - and it goes Cherry then Pear, just for future reference - and after a while it seemed like it might be late enough that you'd be here so I walked over but you weren't and I didn't actually have any sort of watch or anything, so I wasn't sure if I should wait-"

"Have you slept at all?" he cuts in, a bit anxious.

"Yes," she starts, then sighs. "Well, I tried to. I was lying in bed, but the moonlight was coming in and," she glances up at him, "do you remember that spot on the wall the painters missed, that you touched up?"

He nods and starts to say something, but she's talking again.

"You were so annoyed about that spot, because the only can of paint that was left was the semi-gloss that they ordered by accident, and you didn't realize until you'd painted over the spot and it dried, and the semi-gloss was shiny compared to the flat paint. And it really bothered you even though I told you that no one would notice. But last night the moonlight was coming in and shining on that spot and I just kept looking at it for the longest time."

She stops as suddenly as she started, looking pensive and it makes him reach out for her arm, fingers, anything, even though they don't really do that anymore. He hears her take in a sharp breath and stops his hand in mid-air.

"I couldn't stop thinking about that spot on the wall and it made me think..." She pauses, shaking her head. "Last night I came in here and I was having a really crappy day and I whined and complained, because apparently that's what I do, and because you're you, you gave me coffee and listened and told me I'd feel better."

This time he does reach out and take hold of her hand. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Did you mean it?" she asks suddenly.

"What?"

"I'd just been saying something stupid about how I'd screwed up my life and..." She takes in a deep breath. "Did you mean it when you said that your biggest regret was letting me walk away? Did you mean that?"

"Yes," he says, without hesitation, remembering the way the words had slipped out unintentionally and yet, at the same time, knowing absolutely that they were true.

She swallows and then takes another deep breath. Her fingers curl tightly around his as she takes one step up and kisses him lightly on the lips. When she steps back, he can see her chest rising and falling and her lips quirked sideways in uncertainty. "Um...okay, well..." He can feel his hand slip out of hers and she turns as if to leave.

"Wait," he says, stilling her motion. As inadvertent as his confession had been the previous night he couldn't help thinking that Lorelai's reaction then had felt like a rejection, and it makes him cautious now. "What did that mean?"

She pulls her coat lapels more snugly around her body and looks down at the ground. "It means I have regrets too." She glances up, wrinkling her brow. "Do I have to pick just one? There are so many to choose from."

There's a note of apology in her tone, and even though she's trying to keep her voice light, it's shaking ever so slightly. He can see how frightened she is, and that more than anything, makes it clear that there's something momentous on the line here.

Taking a step toward her, he brushes the backs of his fingers across her cheek, watching her bite her lower lip nervously. The motion is so endearing that he brings his other hand up to cup her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip before he leans in to kiss her.

Her lips are so soft beneath his and when she brings her hands up to his face, they're cold, but her fingers smooth over his cheeks gently. It's a little awkward the way they're standing, leaning into each other, their bodies not touching except where their lips connect and where their hands explore the other's features.

By the time they pull away, her hands are warm and they're both breathing heavily. He drops his hands to her shoulders and lets them slip down to cradle her elbows. There's a hint of a smile on her lips and she looks hesitantly hopeful.

The words are out without warning, as if the thought has just occurred to him. "You got married," he says softly, without judgment, and it is almost a question. She had moved on so quickly, yet she's back here kissing him.

Lorelai freezes and pulls back from him, crossing her arms over her abdomen and looking down towards her shoes. "I know."

He's got all sorts of questions in his head: Why did she marry him? Why did she sleep with him? Had Luke meant anything to her? All of these questions have been swirling around in his head for months, so he's not quite sure why the first question he asks is, "Why did you split up?"

Her shoulders sag as she lets out a long sigh. "It wasn't right. We tried to make it right, but it wasn't working. "

"Was it because of me?" he asks and then immediately regrets it because it makes him sounds a little pathetic, like he's been waiting around hoping her marriage would fall apart. "I mean, because of what happened at the hospital?" he adds lamely.

She shakes her head slowly. "Not exactly. I mean, he knew that you and I...that I..." She looks up at him, gesturing with her hands as she explains, "There were feelings. I mean, that all didn't just go away...but..." She pauses, her expression pained. "That wasn't the real problem."

Tilting her head to the side, she goes on, softly. "It was something Sookie said, or asked actually. She wanted to know if there was no Luke," she waves her hand toward his chest, "no you." She pauses a moment, looking pensive. "Now, I'm not sure if she meant that you didn't exist at all, which is really hard to imagine, or if you did but you ran a diner in another town or maybe you lived here but you ran a tackle shop so I didn't know you-"

"Lorelai."

"Oh," she says, pointing at him, "maybe you could be a woman, because then I might know you but it wouldn't be a romantic thing."

He interrupts, louder this time. "Lorelai!"

It seems to get her attention because she looks up at him with a thoughtful smile. "No, you couldn't be a woman."

Sighing, he lifts his eyebrows in exasperation. "I get it. I'm not in the picture. What is the point?"

"Right. Well Sookie asked if you weren't a factor would he - uh, Christopher - would he be the one."

She stops and stands there silently and he's pretty sure he knows what that means but he has to ask anyway. "And he wouldn't be?"

Shaking her head ever so slightly, she says, "I think I thought that if I tried hard enough, worked at it, that he could be. Because I know you're supposed to work at relationships. It's not all love and puppies and rainbows, so I tried, but-"

"It wasn't going to work no matter what you did," he finished for her.

She gives a small, sad shrug. "I should have seen it. No matter what I did-"

He's not sure what makes him cut her off with a kiss just then. Maybe it's that she's reminding him how little effort he'd been putting into their relationship at the end, maybe it's that he has to have a least a little admiration for someone who works hard at something, even if it's the wrong thing. Or maybe it's that he just doesn't want to hear any more about her trying to work it out with Christopher when he knows with certainty he wants to try to work it out with her.

When she pulls back, she's eyeing him tentatively. "Luke?"

He kisses her again, mumbling, "Done talking now." This time he pulls her body right up against his and as she reaches her arms around his neck her coat falls open. Her skin is warm through her thin pajama top and it's the first time he's realized that he's not wearing a coat and while it's no longer winter, the morning air is cold. He slips his arms inside her coat, spreading his palms across her back, holding her warmth to him, letting her press her lips to his over and over. They stand like that kissing for a long time, as if they can make up for months of absence all at once. Eventually, though, even the kissing leaves too much space between them, so he tucks her head into his neck and just holds her as tightly as he can.

He can feel when she literally collapses in his arms and he's reminded how exhausted she must be. "Hey," he says against her skin, "you should get some sleep."

"I don't want to go."

"I'm not entirely thrilled with the concept either, but customers are going to start showing up in," he glances at the clock inside the diner, "thirty-two minutes." He rubs his hand up and down her back. "We can talk later."

"Promise?" she asks, and he can hear the fear, as if she's worried that this was just one magical moment, like a brief interlude from real life.

"Promise," he says softly.

He can feel her smile against his skin. "Do you think that we can do more of that not-talking thing too?"

He grins and pulls back enough to look her in the eye. "God, I hope so."

She returns his smile, then leans in for one last kiss before she turns to go, pulling her coat around her tightly as she walks down the steps. He knows that they still have work to do, issues to resolve, actions to forgive, but he feels particularly buoyant thinking that they both want to take that step.

And as he's smiling to himself in what he's sure is a giddy, hopeful way, she turns to wave at him before continuing on her way home.

Fin