A/N: Huge thanks to my betas, sosmitten, iheartbridges, and greenlineprods.
Summary: Fill-in scene for "Women of Questionable Morals" before the 'Good morning again.' in the diner.
Though he'd never like to admit it, he can't help but secretly enjoy this. He grumps and huffs to cover up his delight over the fact that he's found a woman who will see to it that he experiences the more spontaneous, beautiful things in life; a woman who will drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, out of their warm cocoon of pillows and blankets, and the softness and warmness of it all to venture across the hard floor, the icy sidewalk, and out into the harsh, cold air to witness the first snow of the year with her. Someone so spontaneous, that he can't help but get a little caught up in it with her despite the growling (which she playfully returns), and despite ordering her "one more whiff" before she joins him upstairs once more in the warmth and softness of their bed.
He waits for her to return to bed, feels the cold leaving his cheeks-- something he hasn't enjoyed the feeling of since he was a kid, and he wonders when it was that she changed him, or rather opened him up to enjoying things like this despite himself. Before long, she breezes through the door, quietly removing her coat and shoes. He hears the hushed ruffling sound of the material as her coat joins his on the metal hanger near the door, and then the muffled padding noise of her socked feet on the floor as she returns to bed. She makes a little startled gasping noise and then smiles when she sees him sitting up in bed waiting for her; probably assuming that he'd gone right back to sleep once he left her in the street staring at the little white flakes in wonder. She smiles as she slides under the blankets, eyes sparkling despite the darkness. Luke wishes he could bottle this-- her enthusiasm and glee over the simplest things in life-- to be able to keep that smile on his shelf forever. He hears her thanking him for going outside with her as he joins her deeper underneath the blankets. He feels her soft hair and her warm breath on his neck as she settles herself against him for sleep. Only a few moments later, he knows she is in dreamland, her breathing becoming deep and even, like a sleepy metronome. Yet he himself cannot drop off to sleep. All he can think about is how grumpy he had been. His beautiful girlfriend had dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night to experience something she thought wonderful—something she'd always cherished and had previously always shared with her now college-age daughter, and all he could do was grump and complain. The most bothersome thing about this is that he had secretly enjoyed the fact that she wanted to share this with him, yet he wouldn't even stand outside with her to experience it for even a minute—the tiniest, most miniscule amount of time.
He stirs, becoming uncomfortable in the same spot for so long—thirty seconds, thirty minutes, sixty minutes, ninety-- awake, eyelids like dysfunctional window shades with broken springs. He can't turn off his mind from wondering why he won't let himself open up his softer side to her, why he still tries to keep up that brusque front that everyone knows him for, can't stop trying to think of a way to make it up to her.
He stirs again, and hears her soft voice next to him, muffled in his neck, vibrating every sensitive nerve there, asking if he's okay. He nods, having lost his voice in the thickness of emotion and sensation, but her hand is in his hair now, smoothing and soothing, not believing him, urging with her fingers for him to confide in her what is wrong. He knows this. He knows her so well, as well as she knows him, yet he can't find it in him to admit to her that he is upset with himself for not showing that deep-down, he enjoyed their impromptu walk in the snow, and can't find the words to admit to her how amazing she is for knowing him so well, and for understanding his grumpiness and gruffness—for taking him just as he is.
Letting out a deep, frustrated puff of air, he pauses before he decides that if he can't form the words to tell her how he feels right now, then he needs to show her. He turns toward her, looking into her sparkling eyes, feathering his fingers over her pretty face, sprinkling kisses over every delicate feature until he reaches her downy lips, which he meets eagerly yet gently. Kisses her slowly, deeply, and lovingly, kissing her until she's breathing hard. Clothes are slowly removed, bodies are pressed together, and hands are gliding over skin. It's slow, it's gentle, it's deliberate, it's sweet. It's Luke needing to show Lorelai what he feels for her—to make sure that she knows how much he cares for her, quirks and all.
"Well, good morning to you too." Lorelai says, smiling, breaking the soft silence in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
He smiles lightly, taking a deep breath. "Hey, before, I… I like your crazy quirks. You know that, right?"
"I know," she says softly, tracing random patterns on his chest with her index finger.
Surprised, yet not, he continues, "And I didn't completely hate you dragging me out of bed at three in the morning for the first snow."
She laughs softly, smoothing out his chest hair, and then using her fingers to puff it back up again. "I know."
"And I didn't mean to be a grumpy killjoy either."
"I know," she replies again, planting a soft kiss on his neck.
"How do you know?" He looks down at her, meeting her eyes.
"Luke, I have known you long enough to know that the grumpiness is a front. Deep down, you are just a big teddy bear trying to cover up the fact that you find beauty in all the same things that I do."
Luke lets out a half-grunt, half-laughing puff of air.
Lorelai shifts her position, placing her hands on his chest, her chin on top of them, allowing her to look into his eyes. "No Luke, it's true! You have that man-complex where you always have to be building things, and watching ballgames, and snorting in disagreement at anything that can be described as 'pretty' or 'sweet', or 'chick flick'."
"You will never get me to enjoy one of those sappy chick flick movies you seem to like so much for god knows what reason."
Lorelai laughs. "I know; I threw that one in there for fun."
After a short pause Luke sighs.
Lorelai kisses him softly and whispers, "Don't worry—no one will ever know that Grumpy Grizzly Bear Luke is actually Sweet Teddy Bear Luke behind closed doors."
Luke rolls his eyes in the dim morning light. "Thank you."
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Luke speaks up, "I have to get ready to open the diner."
Lorelai pouts. "Well, I would apologize for waking you up at the crack of three A.M. to watch the snow with me, but we got hot 'good morning' sex out of it, so it was worth it." She smiles devilishly at him.
Luke snorts and shakes his head before leaning in to kiss her gently. "See you in a couple hours," he says as he moves to get out of bed.
Lorelai trails her hand down his arm to his hand as he gets up, giving it a short squeeze before letting it go and smiling at him. "See you then, babe."