A/N: Well I'm back! Looks like you were all right when you said your first fic was never your last :)
I've decided to make In My Head a series of one-shots where we take a look inside Luke's head during particular moments of the series.
This one started rattling around in my head after I saw (for the millionth time) a gifset of Luke and Lorelai standing under the chuppah in 2x03. Two and a half hours later this came out.
I think we can all agree that the Luke in the previous chapter, and this one as you'll see, is a little different than the Luke we know in the series. Just know I am aware - the Luke I write for is the Luke I always wanted to see.
Hope you enjoy :)
You're a damn fool, the voice in my head tells me. I try and hammer and carve and chisel harder to drown it out, this voice that's been pestering me about my actions the last few months.
When the manual labor doesn't quite do the trick, I go through my list of reasons that this is a normal thing to do.
She's my friend — one of my best friends.
She would do the same (or her version of it) for me.
She's done so much alone — she deserves a partner.
The list goes on and on with her positive attributes and ultimately ends with:
She deserves to be happy.
The only problem is the bottom part of the list tends to send me right back into you're a damn fool. It's a frustrating cycle, but hey if it helps me get this chuppah done on time, I think I can live with it for a few weeks more.
She's getting married in a few weeks, the voice never fails to remind me of the closeness of Lorelai's upcoming nuptials to Max Medina. Soon the weeks will become only days.
The thought makes my stomach turn over. I stop working for a moment and take a deep breath in an attempt to release everything that I'm feeling. I close my eyes as I breathe out and remember her excitement when she came into the diner, yellow daisy in hand, chattering about "life changing stuff." She was so happy. Ecstatic even. I suspected it all had something to do with Max, but even so, I kept the daisy in a water glass as a makeshift vase, a reminder of her joy and how she wanted to share a small part of it with me.
She deserves to be happy. I start to work again.
-0-0-0-
When it's done, I maneuver it into the truck and deliver it to her.
"What on earth inspired you to do this?" She asks, genuinely in awe of what's before her.
You, I want to say.
But, like always, I know I don't have the courage to say it, and now it's too late.
"Well, because you're getting married. You can't just stand in the hot sun in the middle of a lawn that hasn't been mowed in weeks. I guess he doesn't mow?"
Shit, I shouldn't have said that, I scold myself internally—I have been trying to be better about making comments about her fiancé.
Unsurprisingly, she calls me on this. I try to form some semblance of an apology when she asks me if I really meant all the things I said to her about marriage. I know I can't give her a straight answer, not without letting something slip, so we do our bantering thing. I notice that she is looking at me very intently, and I realize I have to be even more careful with my words.
"Yeah, if you find the right person," she echoes my last statement, and something dangles in the air between us.
We stand up to inspect the chuppah, Lorelai still in awe. "No one has ever made me a chuppah before."
Her words trigger a memory in my brain from the previous winter.
No one has ever made me something quite this disgusting before. I smile a little at the memory of the Santa Burger, as well as the more positive aspects of the rest of that evening.
I turn to look at her. She's breathtaking in her simple jeans and hoodie. "Well, you only get married once. Theoretically."
We both look away from each other. "Yeah, you only get married once," she repeats.
There's something about the two of us, after all the talks we have had, standing there beneath the chuppah, that makes this moment feel electric—charged with something.
You only get married once. Both our words swirl around in my head. I'm trying to forget the fact that right now I'm standing with her under this beautiful thing I've created, and in a few days she will be standing under it with someone else. You only get married once.
So don't marry him, I want to say. Don't marry him. But how can I say this just days before her wedding? I can't. Even if I did, it wouldn't mean she would suddenly want to be with me. I'm not that presumptuous.
But there's just something about the electricity in the air that feels like it's pushing me.
Lorelai somehow senses my internal struggle. "Luke?"
She's prompting me to say something, to give an explanation.
She wants you to tell her. Tell her not to marry him. Don't marry him. Don't.
The words start coming out before I can stop them. "Don't—" I catch myself from going any further.
She raises an eyebrow at me. "Don't? Don't what?"
"Don't marry him!" I blurt out.
Oh fuck.
Her eyes narrow. "Excuse me?"
Too late to take it back now.
I look at the ground and rub the back of my neck uncomfortably. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever is about to come next.
"Lorelai…don't marry him. Just…don't."
She looks bewildered. "What do you mean don't marry him? Why not? Where is this coming from?"
Lord beer me strength….
"Geez…I mean don't marry him. I could give you a million reasons why you shouldn't, but I'll just give you one: you don't want to. Listen, Lorelai, I love you but you're so wrapped up in this fantasy of having a wedding and a husband and a partner that you aren't really seeing this whole thing clearly. I'm sure Max really is a great guy, but that doesn't mean you have to be with him forever. I know you like him — and I'm not a feelings guy, so what do I know—but I don't think you love him. And I just don't want you to feel like you have to settle because you think this is the best offer, that this is the best it can get for you. You deserve to be happy."
As I hear these words play back in my head I realize I've made a critical error. Lorelai, I love you.
Shit…fuck…maybe she didn't notice.
My mind is in panic mode but I try to maintain a cool exterior.
She is staring at me, leaving me wondering which particular piece of that little rant she has latched onto, praying it's not those three little words.
She brushes her hand over the carvings in the chuppah. "How did you make this?"
This was not the response I expected. "Um…my dad taught me some woodworking stuff as a kid, and I, uh, got the picture out of a book."
"You said that already. But I don't want to know how you made it, I want to know how you made it."
"I'm sorry—what?"
"How did you make me this wedding chuppah if you don't really want me to get married under it? Why?"
"I do want you to get married under it—if that's what you want."
"So when you said 'don't marry him' what you meant was…?"
I rub my temples in frustration. "I don't want you to marry him if it's not gonna make you happy. I don't know that it will, so I don't think you should. But hey I'm not a Vulcan, I don't know exactly how you feel or what you're thinking. So if you want to get married under it then I want you to get married under it!"
"So you do want me to get married under it."
I roll my eyes. "Yes! If you want to get married, my intent was for you to get married under it."
"Just not to Max."
"What?"
"You want me to get married under it, just not to Max because you think he doesn't make me happy."
"Lorelai, I just wanted you to have something nice for the wedding." I don't want to talk about this any more.
"A wedding you don't want me to have. So what is it, Luke? Do you want me to get married to Max or not? Yes or no? Plain and simple."
No.
I don't realize I actually said this out loud until her eyes widen just a fraction, as if she had not expected this response either.
"No," I say with more certainty. But she just stares at me like she's waiting for more. "I don't want you to marry Max under the chuppah that I built for you," I say this quietly and without looking at her.
She turns toward me. "I want to get married under the chuppah that you built for me."
My heart drops for a moment before I realize our statements aren't quite the same. I close the minuscule distance that remains between us so I can look directly into her eyes—eyes so blue I could drown in them. Does she know that they change color with her mood? Does she know what power they wield?
"I want to get married under the chuppah that you built for me," she repeats, barely above a whisper, but with our present closeness, I hear her perfectly.
I slowly, hesitantly press my forehead against hers. "I want to get married under the chuppah that I built for you."
Her smile is shy at first, but quickly becomes a full grin — the smile that has dazzled me all these years.
"I have a few things I should take care of first. Two phone calls and it's done."
"Two?"
"Max and Miss Patty. Someone's got to inform the town, and she'll have it done by the time I get off the phone with Max, if not before."
She goes into the house and I just stand there, dumbfounded by the events that have just transpired. Not ten minutes later she's coming back out saying, "All done!"
She finally realizes I'm still standing in the front yard under the chuppah. "Luke?" She walks back over to me.
"So…what just happened here? Did we just agree to get married?"
Lorelai feigns shock. "Why Mister Danes! A proposal prior to our first date? I do declare!"
I groan. "Lorelai…."
She grabs my hand and intertwines her fingers with mine. "Yes, Luke. We're going to get married under the chuppah. But let's give it some time for my broken engagement to wear off before we dive head first into marital bliss."
I chuckle. "In the meantime, then, how about we go on a few dates? Spend some time doing things couples do?"
"Dirty!"
I roll my eyes but my smile doesn't falter.
She smiles right back at me. "Then after a few dates we'll revisit this marriage thing. It doesn't seem so bad once you find the right person," she says, echoing my words once more.
Yeah once you've found the right person.
She wraps her arm around mine and nestles her head into my chest.
"Oh," she says, "and I love you, too."
Ah. So she did notice.