1
Lorelai Gilmore was cranky.
This was not, in and of itself, such a strange thing. Her emotions were intense and apt to change at the drop of a hat. Many things could make her cranky, from too much snow to talking during movie night to Doosey's being out of Red Vines. This time it was different, though. This time her crankiness was not fleeting, it was not slight, and it was not some long-term bit. It was consistent, if underlying, and it was growing daily. Lorelai Gilmore was cranky, and Luke Danes was pretty sure he knew why.
"Coffee," he said obviously, setting down a huge cup of black, steaming coffee in front of her. "Drink."
"I didn't order coffee," she told him without looking up from her laptop. Michele had screwed something up again, and it had fallen to her to fix it, of course. Of course.
"I know you didn't. You didn't today, and you didn't yesterday. You haven't had a single cup of my coffee all week. I'm actually starting to feel a little insulted. Now drink."
"If I wanted coffee, I would've ordered coffee, Luke," she assured him, still not averting her eyes from the glowing screen.
"I don't care if you want the coffee. I want you to drink it for me. And for my customers, who are starting to mistake you for me. And for Kirk, who you threatened to kick in the head this morning."
"I threaten to kick Kirk a lot."
"But not usually while waving your stiletto in his face."
"I don't need the coffee, Luke."
"Lorelai." She looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time since she'd sat down and ordered nothing.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. Things are just crazy this morning." He held her gaze, but didn't push it. Instead, he believed her. Rather, he tried to. Luke had been working on trusting her, on believing her, for the past three months, ever since Rory left to follow the campaign trail and since Lorelai had shown up at his door, crying and rambling and looking so damn perfect that he hadn't said a single word as he pulled her close and put his lips to work quieting hers.
Believing her could be hard work, though.
"Okay. But will you at least drink the coffee?"
"No. Really, though, it's okay. I gave it up for Lent."
"It's August."
"Well, then I gave it up for August." Her smile was large, but so were the bags under her eyes, and all at once he was far too exhausted to deal with her.
"Fine." He left her table with the cup of coffee, and she whimpered quietly as he poured it down the sink. Whimpered, but said nothing. She had successfully denied herself once again, and another two dollars had been saved as a result of her sacrifice.
