WTD 1 What They Deserve

A/N: A near-future fic, lots of fluff and schmaltz. Luke and Lorelai with Charlie, their first boy.


Lorelai loved Luke with all her heart. Luke returned the sentiment with a devotion that would go down in history. Their love was one for the ages.

That's why Lorelai reviewed her options carefully before making her decision. She weighed first one option, then another, rejecting one, adding a third to her list of choices.

She eyed the larger stainless-steel baby wipes container Emily had insisted on giving them, but decided against it, again in deference for the love that would surely be memorialized in songs, poems and stories over the next decades.

She had successfully fought off her mother's idea of decorating the nursery with a chandelier, wooden locomotive crib (although Luke did think twice about that one), instead letting her provide the cradle and the changing station. Emily accomplished both tasks with aplomb and a huge pile of money.

The cradle was a hand-carved yacht tender, which was mysteriously spirited off to Luke's office after Charlie outgrew it. When confronted, Luke ranted about the need to start a boat-building project for him and Charlie, and declared the cradle to be the model from which they would work.

The changing table was a modern technological miracle, incorporating countless drawers and shelves. There was a built-in baby scale set to report his weight wirelessly to Mom's laptop (Emily had of course arranged for a hacker to make sure the data would be sent to her as well); also a baby monitor built-in which reported Charlie's temperature and general health status. Lorelai had at least discovered and removed Emily's hidden webcam, which was tucked into a hideously ugly recreation of Gainsborough's Blue Boy and had been hanging in Richard's office when Emily decided the equally-ugly Rory painting needed to be part of a set.

The hardware for the baby wipes, lotion, cotton balls and other items was quite beautiful and more functional than anything she'd had for Rory, either in Hartford or Stars Hollow.

Her love for Luke (and a slight concern that his head might dent the beautiful wipes container, forcing another painful discussion with her mother) motivated her to choose the least of all evils. Picking up the smallest plastic box of baby wipes, she hefted it in her hand, assessing its potential impact. Perfect.

Luke walked past her briskly, carrying a basket full of neatly-folded laundry. Lorelai swore under her breath as she heard him singing "Wasting away again in Margaritaville" in a soft but still remarkably in-tune and quite beautiful voice. Head or butt? Head or butt?

Butt. She launched the plastic box of baby wipes at Luke's perfect butt, malevolently delighting in the fact that his perfect butt was also a perfectly-sized target. It also ensured that the noise-canceling headphones Luke was currently wearing wouldn't be damaged. It would be her turn to wear them in just a few more minutes.

Practice had improved her accuracy and the box landed dead in the center of his left cheek. A bruise strategically located there would cause Luke to roll over in his sleep in the perfect position for spooning his wife of three years. Lorelai Danes was still as ultra-organized as she had been during Rory's baby years. Everything in its place, even the bruises.

"Dammit, Lorelai!" he sputtered as he vainly tried to right the basket of laundry. He ripped the noise-canceling headphones from his ears.

When he noticed her dripping face, he pulled a clean diaper out of the stack and came to her without cracking a smile or saying a word. Wrapping one arm around her waist to soothe her, he gently wiped her face dry, patting down all the other wet areas he could see without saying a word. He knew when silence was the only acceptable response. He also knew that giving her a consoling kiss would be completely revolting.

"He's aiming again," she growled as he returned from finding her a fresh shirt. "I think he waits until I'm not looking before he lets loose."

"No, you heard the doctor, it's simply that he reacts when the cold air hits his little shaker of salt, doesn't it, big guy?" Luke took over the changing while Lorelai went into the bathroom and cleaned herself up.

"Seriously, Luke, are you kidding me?" She stood in the doorway to the bathroom holding the shirt he had given her, a T-shirt that had been too tight since the third month of her pregnancy.

"What do you think about that, Charles Thomas? Mommy thinks that Daddy is a big kidder, but he isn't, now, is he? Nope. Daddy never kids. He likes Mommy in that T-shirt and he wants to take full advantage of it before she completely stops nursing you."

Lorelai sighed, her voice muffled as she pulled the shirt over her head. "Enjoy while you've got it, boys, they're getting smaller every day." She tugged the bottom of the shirt down, trying to cover the vestiges of baby fat that made her belly slightly round.

Luke carried Charlie to Lorelai, rubbing his hand affectionately over her exposed skin before wrapping his arm around her waist and zerberting her. He made the same sound on Charlie's tummy, planting a kiss on it, then blowing air out to make a fart sound.

Daddy's silliness didn't slow Charlie down at all. At nearly 11 months old, he kept up a steady stream of sounds from the moment he woke until his eyes reluctantly fell shut at nap time and bed time. Today he merely took a break from nonsense words and began giggling as Luke's stubble tickled Charlie's belly.

"What's the score today?" asked Luke. Lorelai had spent most of the day with Charlie and always had the latest stats for her husband of four years.

"I win!" she crowed. "43 Ma-Mas, 35 Da-Das, and even a few Ro-Ros when Rory and Jess visited."

Charlie obliged his mother with a stream of Wo-wo-wo-wos. Luke picked up the noise-canceling headphones off the floor and handed them to Lorelai.

"You're going to need these if you want to get any work done tonight," he advised.

"I know," she pouted, "but I could listen to him all day."

"Those headphones keep me sane some days," replied her husband. "Best gift you ever bought me. That kid takes after you with the talking thing."

"Rory didn't talk all the time," she protested. "She was a very quiet baby."

"Probably couldn't get a word in edgewise," he gibed as he hastened out the door to take Charlie for a walk. Charlie's goodbye was a series of Da-da-da-da-das which essentially guaranteed that Luke would win the day after all.

Lorelai slammed the bedroom door behind him, muttering, "Next time it's back to the Emily baby wipe container."


A/N: I hope you liked it. It comes from the thought that maybe the L/L gene mix might not result in the sweet perfect kids that seem to be prevalent in fanfic.