Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.
Sometimes the things you want most in life just don't seem to want you. Sometimes they're tricky, evasive, slipping through your fingers, dangling ever so wickedly just out of reach. Sometimes they let you get oh so close, so that you'll forever have that memory of what it was like to become alive, alive in a way that so far beyond the normal level of living that it seems almost unfathomable that such a feeling could even exist at all—let alone have happened to you. But it did. It did because every time you close your eyes, close your eyes and just breathe, you're reminded that you can inhaling the cleanest, freshest, most beautiful air, sucking in through your nostrils and let it soak through every pore in your body, and though it will trickle through you in the sweetest of ways, though it will help pump the blood through your veins and help your heart 'thud' just a little clearer, it won't come close to feeling like you know it could. It takes something more than just oxygen, this extra form of 'alive' does. It takes something else, something you can't quite put your finger on, some chemical or pollen or bacteria even—or maybe something psychological, something inside of you all along that can only be released at such a level as this—whatever it is it mixes with the oxygen to whoosh through you like no other source of adrenaline known to man, to seep into every cell your body holds, and to fill you lungs so that you're sure that they expand past anything they were ever meant to do and then somehow it all shoots straight to your heart, your soul, and even if your ninth grade biology teacher would pull her hair out at how anatomically incorrect your theory is you understand it's just because she doesn't know, she hasn't felt it yet. Such a feeling doesn't exist in a textbook, but it's a truth nonetheless, a truth that once you come close to breathing in, won't let you rest until you've uncovered its source once again.
For Luke Danes, such a feeling existed solely in Lorelai Gilmore.
Some people go their whole life through without ever knowing they've missed out on such a level of existence. Some people experience it once and spend their whole life searching for any semblance of a thing that might allow them to feel that way for just one more breath, one more moment. And a rare few are able to hang on and never let go.
After two years, Luke Danes found himself dangling somewhere between the latter two.
He shifted his weight uneasily on the worn sofa, definitely second hand, maybe even third, and watched the pads of his fingers flatten and then slowly regain their normal, calloused shape as they pushed into each other, held the tension for a moment, and then released, moving slowly away from each other, but never quite breaking that skin-to-skin contact before pushing into each other again. He didn't mind sitting alone, hell he'd spent much of his life sitting alone, but this was different. Uncertainty hung over him like a dark cloud and the unknown swirled before his eyes everywhere he looked. A man born and raised in Stars Hallow wasn't used to such feelings. Hell, in that town it wasn't unusual to clear a day on the calendar just to mark down when you were going to fold the tablecloth or tighten the screw on the door hinge. Uncertainty was as foreign as heavy traffic. A person could grow accustomed to that. That's why he had given up on looking around at things he didn't know begun staring at his hands. They shook a bit but he blamed it on the right leg that he'd been bouncing up and down ever since the moment he took his seat on the uncomfortable cushions. Nervous energy, his father would have called it. Maybe. Luke, however, was better suited to blame it on the swirl of competing noise streaming in through the closed window. New York City alive and bustling in the morning rush hour was nothing but a headache to him, and it did little for his nerves. He took a deep breath and chanced a glance at the clock hanging on the wall to his right. A whoosh of air escaped him as his eyes drifted back to staring at his fingers.
"Hey how's it coming up there?"
"Just fine, dear!"
"Fine, eh?" Luke's father chuckled so only his son could hear. He glanced down at the boy, his eyes twinkling, before turning back to the stairs to call out, "I don't suppose that means you're ready then?"
"Almost!" came the melodic reply of Luke's mother's voice.
Luke breathed deeply from his spot on the bottom step, hands cupping his chin, elbows propped on his knees. He was glad his parents thought he was old enough to go into the city with them to see a play on the big stage. It was a 'sight,' or so he was told. However, at the rate they were going he could have easily finished watching the baseball game on TV and still gotten ready before his mother.
"It was 'almost' a half hour ago," Buddy commented, laughing, as he settled down on the couch, sitting Liz on his lap. "Good thing I'm not charging you by the hour William," he said with a wink.
Luke's father shot him a grin and took a seat on the step besides his son. "Luke," he said, "a man could spend his whole life waiting on a woman."
Luke felt his eyebrows arch. According to Buddy it had only been a half hour since they were supposed to leave and he wasn't sure he could sit still much longer then that, let alone his whole life.
"Dad," he said quietly, "doesn't that sound kinda, um, crazy to you?"
Smiling his father placed a large palm on the top of Luke's head and smoothed his brown hair. "Absolutely."
"Absolutely what?" his mother's voice appeared at the top of the staircase.
Both figures on the bottom step rose and turned to face the woman standing above them donning a new dress made of a silky deep green and a face smoothed by freshly applied make-up, framed by a few strategically loose strands not included in the up-do. She descended the stairs and father and son parted to let her pass. Luke's father took the string of pearls from her outstretched hand and expertly clasped them around her neck.
"Absolutely beautiful," he said.
His wife turned to face him, smiling. "Good answer," she replied, pulling on her long black coat and bending to help Luke with his the zipper on his. "I have to get my purse, I'll meet you boys in the car." Placing a soft kiss on top of Luke's head she turned and strode towards the kitchen.
Once outside, and out of hearing range, Luke glanced up at his father, who was digging out his car keys. "Your whole life?" He questioned again.
His father nodded and turned the key in the door, unlocking the driver's side door of his blue truck. "Mmhmm." He waited for Luke to climb up into the middle of the bench seat. "But," he added softly as the two heard Buddy yelling his good-byes and the front door shut, "it's worth it."
"Hey."
Luke jerked his head up at the sound, slightly startled. A freshly showered Lorelai Gilmore stood in front of him, clad in hip hugger jeans and a light blue blouse that seemed custom made for her eyes. Seating herself on the coffee table in front of him she took his clasped hands in hers. "You okay?"
"Uh," he cleared his throat, "yeah. Yeah."
She cocked her head a bit to the side, studying him before answering. "Alright."
He looked back at her. "What?"
"Well I was calling you but either there was something incredibly fascinating about those fingers of yours, or you were lost in some serious thought…and I'm not sure if that's good or bad." She gave a nervous laugh at that.
He drew in a breath, a real, lung-filling breath, and offered her a smile. "Fingernails," he said, holding them up for her to see, "they're filthy. My mother would have had a fit."
True explanation or not, something about Luke Danes fretting over dirty finger nails made Lorelai succumb to a fit of laughter. Melodic bouncing laughter that sprung off every wall of the small apartment, drowning out the hectic city chaos below them and the tearing uncertainty that had settled in Luke's gut. There was a lot to be sorted out, but right now that laughter was all he wanted to hear, to feel. He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them softly, his eyes never leaving hers. He breathed in the scent of her skin…peach and…at least two other things that should probably never be mixed together on anyone or anything other than Lorelai Gilmore. She let out another soft giggle at his gesture and he tried to overlook the nervousness that he knew lay hinged on its edges.
"Ready?" she questioned.
"As I'll ever be," he chuckled.
"You, mister, are going to love New York."
"Lorelai, I've already been to New York, several times, and I have yet to even find reason to like it…"
"Psh," she dismissed him with a wave of her hand as she dragged him to his feet and towards the door, grabbing her purse on the way, "that's cuz you've never seen my New York."
There was an uncomfortable silence when both recalled the reasons she had a New York to claim as her own and for a moment neither could meet the other's gaze.
Finally Luke cleared his throat. "Lorelai, maybe we shouldn't do it this way. Maybe we should just sit and talk…"
She shook her head, cutting him off. "One day Luke, we agreed. One day together before we try to shift through everything, air all the dirty laundry…and you know how I feel about laundry…"
Even he had to laugh at that.
"…I just…I'm not ready yet, Luke, I'm not ready to have those conversations. I'm finally happy…after two years I know what happy feels like again…I know there's a lot to talk about and…and that talk might not go well." She looked at her feet, shifting slightly, "I want one day, and if this ends up being our only day, well at least I'll have this…"
"I understand that," he said, tilting her chin up so he could see her eyes, "but we can't even get out the door without…"
"I know. And we're going to hit many more. Today, and everyday…if there is an everyday. But let's just overlook them. Just for today. No thinking about the past. No thinking about the future. No explaining ourselves to anyone—Rory, my parents, Sookie, Stars Hallow…even to ourselves. Just being, okay? You and me, just being?"
The rational part of him knew he should argue with this, knew that they had to talk, had to clear the air, to figure things out, figure themselves out…but her eyes were just so blue, and she just smelled so much like how he remembered, and she was just so…so…so Lorelai, all he could do was nod and allow her to lead him out into the mayhem that was New York City. He knew he would probably regret the decision later, but at that moment all that mattered to him was that soft hand gripping his wrist, pulling him along into the unknown.
