Sleep Talking

It was a bizarre case of role reversal: usually Lorelai was the one to find him asleep on the couch when he got home from work. But thanks to Kirk and a series of mishaps Luke didn't not care to go back over in any way, shape, or form, he was trudging up to the house a mere 30 minutes before he had to be in bed to get up and do it all over again the next morning.

Lorelai was curled up on the couch, Paul Anka tucked against her side, dressed for the Friday night dinner he'd been forced to cancel his own appearance at. Guilt, a familiar friend, curled in his gut as he leaned over the back and gently brushed her hair until she stirred. Paul Anka butted at his hand until Luke patted his head before returning his attention to Lorelai.

"You're cute when you're half asleep like this." The words slipped out of him before he could stop them. Hopefully Paul Anka wouldn't tell.

"Did you get everything off the ceiling, babe?" Lorelai murmured.

"Eventually. Sorry about dinner. Did it go OK?"

"S'alright. It's Emily, so draw your own conclusions. I've had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with, but you're probably starving."

"I'm OK. Besides, there's not enough room for me on that couch right now." With a regretful sigh, Luke straightened. "I should really go to bed."

"I'll come with you." Lorelai nudged Paul Anka off the couch so she could get up. They trudged up the stairs, feeling very much like survivors of a war. Two distinctly different wars, but survivors all the same.

They each took a turn changing and brushing their teeth in the bathroom, then sank gratefully onto the bed. Her body naturally rolled into his, and he curled around her. Spoons, he thought, burying his face in her hair. Most of the time, they slept without touching now, but there were just some nights you needed to be spoons.

"I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror." The words slipped out again, and really he had to be that exhausted to admit what he'd done in the immediate aftermath of reading that damn psychology book all those years ago.

"What, babe?" Lorelai asked sleepily, and Luke let out a long, slow breath. OK, maybe he hadn't quite made a fool of himself.

She craned her head to look at him. "What on earth made you think of that?"

"Spoons. I dunno. I'm tired." He buried his face in her hair and just breathed. Then he pulled back. "You're not surprised to hear that."

"I already knew it."

Fully awake, Luke pushed into a sitting position. "What?"

Lorelai quirked a grin at him. "You talk in your sleep, Butch." Then she stole his pillow and left him lying awake to fret over what else he'd accidentally told her over the years.

Shooting Star

During their month apart, he fled to the cabin because it was too hard to stay in Stars Hollow at first. He didn't even fish. He just sat on the dock at night, staring at the stars and wondering where it all had gone wrong. It'd been a bit of her, a bit of him. So stupid.

His cell phone was in his hand before he realized it, her number dialed, her voice coming over the voicemail.

"I saw a shooting star, and I thought of you," he wanted to say. Instead, he slowly shut the phone, ending the call.

Lonely

Luke arrived on her doorstep the night he signed the divorce papers, alcohol on his breath that sharply reminded her of when Jess' biting words had driven him to drink and sent her into a fury.

"You're really drunk right now. I don't think you're gonna remember any of this," Lorelai told him as she settled him on the couch with a blanket and her favorite pillow. Not even Rory got to use her favorite pillow.

"No, I'm not drunk at all," he informed her. "You're just blurry."

She laughed and patted the blanket into place.

"I'm such a failure," he whispered.

"No, you're not. You didn't sleep with a Sock Man. Or Sock Woman. Or Sock Anyone." She rubbed his leg. "Try to sleep."

"I can't take the loneliness anymore." The words were so soft that she nearly didn't hear him at all.

Because it was dark, because he was drunk, because she was lonely as well, she cupped his face. She ran her thumb over his scruff and her lips ached. "You have me. You'll always have me." Before she could be foolish, she pulled away and curled into the chair to watch over him for the night.

Dating Advice

"Oh, come on, come on. Say it."

"Don't even start."

Lorelai frowned at Luke over the counter and turned her attention back to her copy of Cosmo. "Fine. I'll demonstrate. 'Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day.' See? That's not so bad."

"Geez." Luke turned away from her, cheeks red, and she smirked. "Do you have to do that in here?" he muttered.

"Yes." Lorelai turned back to Kirk. "Now, come on, Kirk, repeat that."

"It just seems so … intimate," Kirk stammered and duck back under the quilt he had dragged into the diner with him.

"That's what Cosmo specializes in. Lulu will love it." Lorelai leaned over and lifted the corner of the quilt. "You're hiding under that blanket because you're blushing?"

"Could we perhaps try something Mother would approve?"

"Your mother wouldn't approve of that?"

Kirk popped his head out. "She thinks Lulu and I should sit no closer than 32.3 inches apart at all times."

"Ah."

"Does that stuff really work?" Kirk motioned to the magazine.

"Absolutely," Lorelai said. "Look, I'll practice on Luke."

"You will not practice on Luke," he informed her and fled into the kitchen before his imagination got the better of him. Otherwise, he would start to imagine that Lorelai was telling his all this mushy stuff and actually meaning it.