Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who left reviews! It makes me feel a trillion times better about bringing my stuff here to share. Recap of last chapter: hot door sex in Luke's apt.

Lorelai POV

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Luke takes one look at me, then at the stairs down to the diner, and his lips thin like he's about to yell at Jess.

"You can't even walk across a room right now. I'm not risking you to stairs," he grumbles.

He bends at the knees and tugs me over one shoulder, standing with his arm secured over my legs and my stomach pinched up somewhere near my bra strap.

"Seriously?" I can't tell if it's the blood rushing to my head, or if this is a little romantic. On the other hand, he at least could have stood up like I was a little wisp of a thing instead of hoisting me with bent knees and proper lifting form like I was Patty's goddamn washing machine.

"What if it worked, huh?" I propose, admiring the flex of his ass as he manhandles our combined weight down the stairs. I make a mental note to sneak into his closet and hem all his plaids shorter so I can get more frequent perusal of these particular assets. "The plan, I mean. Maybe I'm cured enough for stairs."

"Let's not talk about the plan right now, Lorelai," he says between his teeth. The building is suspiciously quiet, so maybe all that banging of the door cleared out the lunch rush. But as soon as Luke gets to the bottom of the stairs and crouches to set me back on my feet, the conversations leap back into action. I catch the phrase, "Nice weather" in at least three different voice.

I grin, fanning some air onto Luke's ruddy cheeks. "A little too much weight on the stairs there, buddy? You should get more cardio."

He swats my hand away, scowling way too darkly for a man who just got thoroughly laid. Or doored. Whatever you call the vertical mambo. "The stairs are fine," he growls. He's not breathing hard even though his cheeks are still red, so he might have a point. I push up onto my toes and kiss him on the cheek just to see if I can pass my eyebrow-pinching headache onto him.

"Have a nice day, Pookie," I say brightly, and brush a little dust off the sleeve of my cardigan as I sashay out of the diner, batting my eyelashes at everyone who's pretending not to stare.

Let 'em. I did damn fine work up there and I don't care who knows it. Especially since they're probably going to be prying at Luke for information all afternoon. That'll be fun, because then he'll show up to the movie all growly and grouchy and I love him like that.

Besides, now that I'm cured of my brain fog, I can afford to tease him a little.

I feel smug all the way home—or until I blink and realize I'm in the lobby of a dry cleaner's. Pulling my phone out of my purse, I call Rory. She was pissed at me last night, but then she cried in every room of our house, and lost her anger in one of those piles of soggy Kleenex. This morning, watching her pick at her pancakes, I almost wish she hadn't.

"Hi, Mom. Still at Luke's, working on your X-ray vision?"

"I've found a new and improved kind of X-ray vision, actually. But no, I'm at the dry cleaners."

"You don't own anything that needs dry cleaning."

"Which is convenient, since I can't afford dry cleaning."

"What do you mean you can't afford it? Is it expensive? Grandma does it, it must be expensive. Why can't you afford it? I told you, I'm getting a new job next year, and I can help with—"

"I'm dating Luke," I cut her off before she can go full tailspin and quit college over my slip of the a-word.

There's a pause. It's about a tenth of what a normal person would register as a pause, but twice a normal Gilmore pause. "You're sure this time? It's been confirmed by independent sources?"

I think of Luke with his pants off. "Confirmed. Fully. Independently. I didn't get a chance to tell you last night, but it was confirmed then." I shove away all thought of Dean drama. Rory's voice sounds upbeat and free of tears this morning and if she's not dwelling, I'm not going to drag her back into it.

The dry cleaning lady is starting to give me the evil eye, so I wiggle my fingers in a cheerful wave and let myself out. I only go as far as the bench out front, because my legs are a little wobbly from the workout we gave the door, and also because the morning after she became the other woman, Rory doesn't need the trauma of hearing her sex-addled mother getting hit by a car. Especially one going the Stars Hollow-15mph for maim-but-not-kill.

"So, what's my approved response here? Are we happy? Freaked out? Should I get You've Got Mail or Thelma and Louise?"

"Neither." I stare up the street. "Luke and I are…kind of going out to the movies tonight."

A tiny squeak escapes her, then it goes quiet like she's trying to hide her glee until I give her the go ahead to be happy.

"How do you feel about this? I mean, he's Luke, and I know you're in college but you do need to eat all summer and it's nothing but Al's if this goes south. These things do have a tendency to go south when I'm involved, and as your mother it's my duty to make sure you're healthy and fed, so if you want me to call it off right now, I can. I mean, I will. I will," I say it again, stronger this time, because it's Rory. If she asked me to, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I think. No, I'm sure.

I check the phone three times to make sure it hasn't dropped the call before a full second goes by.

"I think…"

"Spit it out," I say sternly, because her voice is going all soft and weak the way it does when she realizes she might hurt anybody. Like a bunny. Or a bacterium.

"I think you might, maybe, I'm just saying it's a possibility, freak out."

I can't hear her swallow, but I know the exact length of pause for a Rory swallow, and that was it.

"And I think if you freak out, that will make Luke really sad." Her voice is very small now, and I know it's not the cell reception because our house is barely a half mile from here.

"Yeah." I squeeze my eyes closed, because maybe if I can't see myself, I won't be myself. "Okay, Yale-girl. Tell me how to be Dean, not Jess. God, I hate that I'm Jess. Oh wait, shit—shoot! Forget I said the D-word. Forget I said the J-word. Forget I said anything. Did I tell you Patty told me to have wild sex with Luke? And she offered me a pot brownie? Oh wait, no, not the brownie thing. I just thought she was going to, because of that one time I brought them home and you ate half a pan before we realized that they were—" I can hear Rory trying to interrupt, but I'm in full babble so I don't break off until she hits top volume.

"Mom. Mom! MOM! SHUT UP FORGET ABOUT DEAN OKAY WE'RE TALKING ABOUT LUKE."

"Jeez, you've really worked up some decibels trying to get people to sign those Burundian petitions at school."

"Burma, Mom. And you're not Jess." She sighs. "Look, you know Luke is my dad, right?"

I wince. Christopher hasn't come around much since the new baby, but I had hoped she'd been too busy to notice. "Oh, honey, he's not. You know I didn't know Luke back then, though I hear his short shorts would have gotten me pregnant on sight, so if I had, maybe you'd have a little brother or sister by now."

"De facto dad, Mom. As in practice, not in theory. He taught me how to hold a fork when you swore fingers were easier to clean, he fixed my first bike, he went to my high school graduation and moved me into my dorm, he forgot a different kind of wrench upstairs every eight minutes when I was dating Jess… I mean, he's always been my dad. He's just never been with you."

Luke is a spectacular door fling, perfect for my normal infatuation and then hives dating pattern. But he's also my daughter's father, and I've failed pretty much everyone in my life except Rory.

"I can't screw this up," I say, to myself as much as Rory.

She doesn't sigh, because she's too sweet for that, and she doesn't laugh either. She just says, "I love you, Mom. No matter what, okay?"

And somehow that's so much worse.

"Mmm-hmm," I say, and hang up, because that's all I can do without crying. I sniffle and dab at my eyes, removing all trace of moisture. Then I get up and check the street signs to see where I ended up, and navigate back to Luke's.

Author's Note: I know, that was a bit short! But much raciness to come, and you still have to read about where the title of this piece comes from.