Friday Night

Luke arrived at six. He knocked several times on the front door before letting himself in. He wandered to the kitchen, following the series of banging and clashing noises coming from that direction. He found Lorelai kneeling on the floor, her head in the oven.

"Lorelai!" he bellowed. "Lorelai! What are you doing?"

She backed out of the oven and looked up at him, her face red with exertion. "Relax, Daddy," she said, "I'm not pulling a Sylvia Plath. I'm looking for the lid to my saucepan."

"Don't call me Daddy," he said.

"It's a reference."

"Still. Don't call me Daddy. Ever."

She grinned at him. "Sure, Big Poppa."

"No," he said.

"Whatever you say, boo."

"No."

"Lovah?"

"No."

"Thor?" He cocked an eyebrow at this, and she shrugged. "I'm reaching," she said.

"Clearly," he told her, helping her to her feet. "Why would the lid to your saucepan be in the oven?"

"Rory and I were keeping the pots and pans in the oven to use the cabinet we keep them in for bread and candy."

"Why?"

"The mouse was eating the bread when we left it out," Lorelai said, stooping to retrieve the pan she needed from the floor.

"You have mice?"

"No," Lorelai said. "We have a mouse. We call him Machizedak."

"I'll set a trap."

"See, this is why we didn't tell you," she said.

"You have one mouse, you've got other mice. It's unsanitary," he told her. "I'll set some traps."

"How did we go from a trap to some traps?" she demanded. "And none of those sticky traps, or the snappy ones that break their necks. Get those heart ones."

"The heart ones don't work—would you let me take care of it?"

"I don't want to see the carcasses," Lorelai said.

"I will take care of it," he said.

She leaned forward for a kiss. "As long as you're the one removing the bodies, not me. That way I don't have to feel guilty about the untimely death of Malchizedak. He's really quite thoughtful."

"He's a mouse, Lorelai."

"Say it ain't so!"

He ignored this and took the pan from her hand. "What are you making?"

"Sookie gave me sauce with like, stuff in it. Veggies and meat and stuff. I think she feels sorry for me because I'm suddenly an orphan. She said to serve it with penne rigatta, but all we have are macaroni elbows. I thought I would cook for you," she said, "or at least, reheat for you."

"That's very considerate of you," he said. "Get out of the kitchen. I'll do it."

"I can cook, you know," she said defensively.

"I'm sure you can. Get out of the kitchen." She stood, her hands on her hips. "Please," he said.

"Did you get movies?" she asked, calling from the living room. He heard a gleeful shout and she ran back to the kitchen, clutching the rentals in her hands. "Okay, first of all, bonus points for This Is Spinal Tap," she said.

"I thought you'd like that." He chuckled, murmuring, "but it goes up to eleven!"

"And The Rundown? With The Rock? I cannot wait." She turned the box over in her hand. "Can you smell what The Luke is cooking?" she roared, and began giggling. "The Luke is the most electrifying man in the Diner Business!"

They ate in front of the TV, balancing bowls of pasta on their knees. Luke soon found it was not a good idea to attempt any kind of physical contact when watching an action movie with Lorelai, as she was too likely to punch the air, clap her hands, or kick out from the couch without warning. After the final scene of The Rundown, she turned to him with a glowing face.

"That? Was ridiculously awesome. I love that movie. I want to watch it every day for the rest of my life. I want to marry it and have its babies," she said. "Awful movies are so great. It was totally worth it, just to see The Rock kick that tiny guy's ass. And for the whole Christopher Walken tooth fairy speech. And Christopher Walken saying 'oompah loompah.' And that one scene with the humping monkey." Without waiting for him to answer, she kissed him briefly and bounded off the couch for the kitchen. "I think I have some ice cream. Who am I kidding? Of course I have some ice cream."

"I brought pie," he called after her.

She peered around the corner. "I believe those are the magic words," she said. "And also: shame on you for holding out on me. If I had known that, I would have skipped the whole pasta thing entirely."

"I know," he said, reaching behind the couch for the box he'd brought with him. He placed it on the coffee table and lifted the lid, procuring two forks from inside. Lorelai peered down and gasped.

"Luke! You made me a pudding pie! It's like—that's heaven in a box right there! No two more perfect desserts exist in the universe and here you've put them together: it's like an uber-dessert!"

He handed her a fork. "Dig in," he said.

"No plates?" she asked, grinning slyly.

"This is a one-time offer," he told her.

She took both forks from him and sat on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. He put his about her waist, settling his hands just above the waistband of his jeans, absently kneading her skin gently with the tips of his fingers. She leaned towards him and kissed him a long moment, cradling his head in her hands.

"Thanks," she finally said.

He looked at her questioningly, his eyes seeming slightly dazed. "For the pie?"

She shook her head. "For knowing what to do. For making me feel better," she said. "Well, and for the pie," she added. "Pie never hurts."

A half an hour later, she put her fork down and rubbed her stomach with one hand. "I lied. Sometimes, pie hurts."

Luke laughed and lay back on the couch, pulling her down with him. They watched the second movie together, Lorelai's head on his chest, his arm around her. He made her rewind the Stonehenge scene three times.

"It never stops being funny," he said.

"Because of the little stone and the little people and the dancing," she said.

"In a nutshell, yes."

Lorelai yawned as the credits rolled. She sat up, raking her hands through her hair. "I started the day with a food hangover, you know. Tomorrow ain't going to be any different." She rubbed her eyes sleepily. "God, I'm exhausted."

"You do look like you could use some sleep," Luke said, sitting up as well.

"That's one way to tell a girl she's the prettiest one in the room," she retorted.

"Well, that's a given," he said. He rose. "I should go."

Lorelai's face fell. "Go? Home?"

"No, Lorelai, to my other girlfriend's house," he said.

A slow smile spread over her face. "Okay, first of all, not funny, but second of all, you just called me your girlfriend," she said. "That is so cute."

"Don't say cute," he said.

"Sure, Daddy." She rose and moved to kiss him, but he dodged. "What's with the moves there, Lucky?"

"I can't kiss you after you call me Daddy," he said. "This is what I'm trying to avoid."

She laughed. "Okay, Luke. Noted. Now, come here." After a moment, she pulled back. "I don't think that's ever going to get old," she said. "Why don't you stay tonight?"

He stepped back and raised his hands. "I, ah—that is, I'm not—don't you think it's a little soon? For, you know, that?"

She blinked innocently. "For what, Luke?"

He swallowed thickly. "You know."

"Uh-uh."

"You know," he said, and lowered his voice, "the sex."

Lorelai put her hands on her hips. "Well, we can't do it now anyway, now that you've brought it up. It totally kills the moment, makes it all awkward," she teased.

"Lorelai," he said.

"That wasn't what I was getting at, anyway," she said.

"It's not?"

"See, you can't sound disappointed after being freaked out," she began.

He stopped her, "I wasn't freaked out."

"Oh, you were freaked out, buddy."

"I wasn't."

"Freaked. Out!" She threw up her hands in imitation of him, speaking next in a husky voice. "Oh, uh, I, uh, it's, uh, it's a little soon, for, uh, that sex thing," she rumbled.

"That is not how I sound," he countered.

"That's how you sounded just now," she said.

"It is not."

She sighed. "Fine. I was just wondering if maybe you'd want to crash here. Sleeping only," she said. She looked at him. "I'd really like it if you could stay."

Luke studied her a long moment. "You need me to stay, I'll stay."

"Good. Okay, then. I'm going to get changed. There are extra toothbrushes under the sink." Off his look, she explained that she and Rory had dropped their own too many times not to prepare for it.

"I'll meet you up there," he said. "I'm just going to take care of these dishes."

"Luke, leave them, it's fine."

He shook his head silently, gathering up the remains of their dinner. She watched him walk to the kitchen before turning to run upstairs and choose adequately sexy but not suggestive pajamas. She wished Rory were home and immediately unwished it: not only was it wildly inappropriate, it only served to remind her that Rory wasn't home. She selected thin cotton bottoms and a tank with the word "coffee" on the front and on the back, "it's not just for breakfast anymore." She waited until she heard Luke finishing up in the bathroom to open her door and peek into the hallway.

He stood uncertainly, hovering outside the bathroom, one hand on the top of his baseball hat, as though he were afraid she would try to remove it. He gestured to the bathroom, saying, "it's all yours." She sidled past him and told him she'd be done in a moment. She took longer than necessary to brush her teeth and hair, to wash her face and apply moisturizer. When she could dawdle no longer, she looked her reflection hard in the eye, took a breath, and returned to the bedroom.

Luke sat on the bed, hatless, purged of flannel, still in his tee shirt and jeans, his sneakers unlaced. Lorelai leaned against the doorframe, smiling softly.

"You know," she began, "I know that the jeans aren't really attached as some sort of second skin."

"Could you not watch me do this, please?" he asked.

She shrugged in reply and made walking to the other side of the bed an elaborate journey, circumventing the piles of laundry that had accumulated on her floor during Rory's stay. She wriggled under the covers and turned on her side, curling her knees to her chest. After a moment, he rose, heaving a sigh.

"Luke, if you'd rather go home—if this is too uncomfortable for you," Lorelai said, "it's—it's fine."

He threw back the covers and slid in, remaining on the far side of the bed, not touching her. "It's a little late for that," he said darkly.

She reached out and turned off the lamp on her bedside table before rolling over to face him. She could see his profile in the dark. He was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, with the covers pulled up over his chest and his hands folded on his stomach. She bit back a grin and inched her hand across the mattress to tap him on the elbow.

"Hey, stranger," she said. "Who said you could share my bed?"

He only grunted in response.

Lorelai slowly wiggled her way across the bed and came to rest her chin on his arm. "Wanna hear a joke?" she asked.

"A joke?"

"A rope walks into a bar and asks for a drink. The bartender says he can't serve him because he's a rope, so he leaves and ties his hair up, messing it at the end. He comes back into the bar a few minutes later and asks for a drink. The bartender says, 'aren't you the rope I turned down a minute ago?' and the rope tells him, 'no, I'm a frayed knot.'"

Luke snorted and laughed. "That's a terrible joke," he told her after a moment.

"I've got a million of them," she said.

She heard him draw a long breath and watched his chest rise and fall slowly. As he exhaled, he lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders, edging closer. She shifted to give him more room and lifted her head, resting her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Now, is this so bad?" she asked.

"Nah," he said. "You fit pretty good."

He felt her smile against his skin. "Nice pillow talk," she said. She draped her arm over his stomach and settled in. "Actually, you fit pretty good, too," she said.

"What did Sookie say when you told her?" he asked.

"I didn't tell Sookie," she replied.

"What did Sookie say when you told her?"

"You don't want to know."

"Sure I do."

"Something about Hepburn and Tracey and," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "sex." She felt him tense a little.

"Yeah, I really didn't need to know that," he said.

"She was happy for us."

"Good. Good."

Lorelai stifled a yawn. "You know, you'd think you'd come home at night smelling like fries and oil and stuff, but—"

"Lorelai? Don't take this the wrong way—"

"That's a great opening," she said.

"—but shut up and go to sleep."

She squeezed his ribcage a little. "Okay. Goodnight," she said. She lifted her head. "Did I thank you for staying?"

"She'll be home soon."

Lorelai was silent a moment. "That's not the only reason I'm glad you're staying," she said.

"I know."

"Okay. Goodnight, Luke."

"Goodnight, Lorelai."

"Night, John Boy," she said.

"Ah, geez."

"Oh, and by the way?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wake me up before you go-go. Just call me angel in the morning, baby. Just touch my cheek before you leave me," she said.

"Goodnight, Lorelai."

"Although, I might beg you to stay—"

"Goodnight, Lorelai."

"—with me." She leaned up and kissed him softly. "Night."

He closed his eyes.

"Daddy."

"You just had to do it," he said.

"Goodnight, Luke."

"Right. Now it's goodnight."

"It really is," she said.