Author's Notes: Okay, this chapter wanted to legit drag ass like you wouldn't believe. However, thanks beyond infinity to my beta, LSR, for putting up with my whining and editing, I think this particular chapter came out pretty well. I'm actually kinda happy with it, despite its reluctance (which is nothing compared to how the next chapter or so is treating me).

Okay, babbling. So, hope you enjoy!

And, as always, thank you so much to the folks who review and comment. It helps so much; it really does. This story is pretty much existing on those comments/reviews in addition to the fact that I really want to see this through. Thank you again, peeps! I hope you're enjoying reading as I am writing.

XXXXX

It was well past ten at night when Chris was roused from a restless dozing on his couch. He shook his head quickly, trying to wake up, think, and clear the grogginess from his mind all at the same time. He stumbled in the dark, his knee catching the side of an end table and his foot catching the jamb of an entryway. He swore darkly and quickly flicked on the light before opening the door with bleary eyes as he wiped a little drool from the side of his mouth.

Chris blinked almost comically. "Luke? It's…" He glanced down at his watch as a yawn crept out without his permission. "Almost eleven at night; what are you—"

He was cut off as Luke shouldered past him quickly, shutting the door behind them before turning around in the dim living room. "Do you want this?" he asked.

Chris stared at him, not quite sure if he was even fully awake yet or not. "I'm sorry, what?"

One of Luke's fists clenched in tension, the other still impeded by a cast (which, by Chris's math, was due to come off next week). His entire stance looked fraught with angry frustration, his lips drawn tightly together and his face bordering between irritated and neutral.

"You heard me. Do you want this?" Luke repeated, and his voice wasn't any better than his stature. He sounded tired and stubborn, like he wanted to fight, but wasn't sure what or who he was fighting against. "Me? Do you want me."

Chris rubbed his hand over his eyes to clear the remaining sleep from them. "I told you in the hospital that I wanted to see what it was about, didn't I? That I wanted to do this, that we should do this?"

Luke's fingers were still rhythmically clenching at his side, his gaze defiantly pointed at Chris's feet instead of his face. "What kind of fallout are we gonna get?"

"Since when you have been worried about what other people think?"

"Because I have to be this time," Luke retorted sharply. "Because this time, it's not just about my life, my privacy, my issues. This could permanently damage whatever you have with Rory and Lorelai. It would hurt me to lose them, you know that. But I know that it would kill you."

Chris swallowed against the lump in his throat, the one that always had a way of making an appearance where Luke was concerned. "She's my daughter. I've made my peace that I'll be in and out of Lorelai's life as she pleases, but Rory…" He wanted desperately to say that Rory would come around, that she would get over it in time, that she just wanted her mother to be happy, and maybe Luke giving her some kind of closure would be best, whether it was moving on with Chris or alone. But all of the reasoning he could come up with, all of the justifications…none of them seemed to fit or even hold water. Oh, naturally, he could say them, but everything about Luke's face and nervous fidgeting kept him from doing so. This wasn't a business transaction or a dinner party—this was Luke.

"Well?" Luke prompted when the silence had gone on too long.

Chris sighed and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I don't know if she'd ever forgive me." He placed his hands on his hips, finding Luke's shoes just as interesting as Luke found his feet. "Oh, of course Lorelai and Emily never would, but then, I don't know that Emily's ever forgiven me for not being the sort of strong-willed 16-year-old I apparently should have been against Lorelai's ability to dig her heels in when she wanted something. So, you know…Emily Gilmore's forgiveness? Not exactly the top of the list when it comes to things I thought I'd get."

Luke looked up marginally, but only to Chris's mid-section. His eyes flicked anxiously. "And Lorelai?"

Chris shrugged, fingers tightening over his own narrow hips as he took a cautious step in Luke's direction. The other man didn't budge. "She's been pissed at me in the past. True, I haven't stolen her fiancé before, but let's face it, Max wasn't really my type. If I had to guess, she might come around in time just because she thinks it's so bizarre. She wouldn't be able to stay away, especially if it went down in flames."

Luke snorted. "I wouldn't think her to be that mean-spirited."

"Not mean-spirited so much as she would call it karma and watch it like it was The Godfather, Part III."

"So you think you two would be okay then."

Chris's shoulders hitched again in thought. "Maybe." He was within arm's length now of Luke, who's fist had finally stopped flexing anxiously.

Luke's gaze finally met his, deathly serious and so full of uneasy depth that it made Chris's own stomach tighten in response. "But Rory?"

The excuses died in his throat again at the earnest stare. Chris's jaw worked silently for a moment before the words finally spilled out. "She'd probably never forgive me, even if it did go belly-up. I love her, she's my daughter. She loves me, I'm her father. But while she'll forgive her mother pretty much anything, she has her limits with me, and I've pushed them before."

The fight seemed to bleed slowly out of Luke's shoulders, and the rigidity melted away in resignation.

There was a long stretch of silence that only allowed the disquiet to build again, though this time it was different. This time, it was as if Luke were straightening himself out, getting his thoughts and words together in his head.

"Emily came to talk to me," Luke said quietly.

Chris let out a whoosh of sympathetic breath. "Shit," he muttered, mostly to himself because he knew what that probably meant.

To his utter surprise though, Luke half-sat, half-flopped on his couch, his cap landing somewhere behind it when the brim caught the back of it and slipped up. "Yeah, you could say that, so long as you're nowhere near her. I almost dropped an f-bomb."

Chris snorted weakly as he sat beside of Luke, facing inward as he had the last time Luke had been there, his knee slotted against Luke's hip. This time, he didn't think much of the insinuation, because by all accounts, it seemed like Luke was going to call it off before it even started.

"Bet she loved that. Language of the common man and all."

Luke frowned, shooting him a confused, pensive stare. "No…no, she pretty much hated it." He sighed, and went back to staring at the ceiling. "She knows."

Chris didn't deny the uncomfortable knot in his chest that Emily had her fingers in this now too. Lorelai and Rory were bad enough, but at the end of the day, they had to know, and he had no regrets about that. "Maybe she only thinks she—"

Luke cut him off. "Some friend of her has a kid who works at the hospital. She saw us." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "And it's not just that. I bet half the town knows by now, based on the way Babette and Miss Patty were skulking around the diner like a couple of damn vultures."

Chris sighed and straightened his position until he was shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with him again, his head lying on the back of the couch to also stare at the ceiling, because this was turning into a mess of disastrous proportions. "So…"

"So."

The silence lengthened out again, this time uncomfortably aware of itself while not giving a damn about the feelings of the two men in its company.

"I can't let you lose Rory," Luke said quietly, and his tone was nearly as undone as it had been when he had been angry and forceful. "I can't. I know if I lost April…I think I'd fucking break, I really do. She's my kid, my little girl…well, not so little anymore, but she's mine."

Chris stared hard at the ceiling, remembering the ugly custody battle between he and Sherri, the ins and outs of first Lorelai's access to Rory, and then Rory's decisions herself whether to speak with him or not. He had always toed the line a bit on all three fronts, but had never pushed any of them away permanently. Rory would damn well likely shut him out for Lorelai's benefit, and he couldn't say he blamed her, not one bit. His grandfather's words rang throughout his head, unbidden, every summer until he stopped going (which, honestly, had been right about the time Rory had been conceived).

"Remember, Christopher…we Haydens work for our livelihood. It wasn't inherited. Anything worth having in this life is worth working for, especially if you want it badly enough."

Did he want to work for this? Hell, so far, every step of the way had been like pulling teeth, whether it had been Luke's or his own. But Luke had an excellent point in that eventually, it would be like pulling Rory's wisdom teeth without anesthetic.

"Still with me?" Luke asked, his eyes not moving from what must have been a very dull ceiling by this point.

Chris blinked, the gloomy thought process still droning on in his head. "Just…" He rubbed a hand over his face. "Just thinking about something my grandfather used to say."

"Words of wisdom when deciding being straight wasn't good enough and your ex-wife's fiancé looks downright dapper?" Luke asked humorlessly.

"Probably something your old man said to you a time or two," Chris countered. "Just that if you want something badly enough, it probably won't come easy."

Luke did turn his head at that, only to find Chris staring back with a steady, hazel gaze. "Yeah, he did say something along those lines."

The quiet was back, but lacking some of the discomfort of the ones from earlier. Chris decided Luke's solid, blue eyes were infinitely nicer to look at than his gray ceiling. Luke wasn't exactly looking away either, though Chris had never thought his eyes were anything terribly interesting, not like Lorelai's eyes, full of vibrancy and cheer, shifting from blue to violet like Elizabeth Taylor, and doing so just as often as the actress had changed husbands.

Chris raised his hand slowly, making his intent clear with slightly loosened fingers. They came into contact with warm, stubbly skin. It scraped along his callused fingers, catching the occasional tiny scar that had he had received from popping open computer casings. Luke's good hand came up to wrap around Chris's wrist, a thumb far more toughened than his own catching on the slender bones beneath the skin.

"You're really doing this," Luke asked almost a bit numbly, as if he couldn't believe that Chris was willing to risk it without further debate.

Chris shrugged. "I've done stupider things in life than this that I wanted less."

Luke looked slightly perturbed at that. "Well, gee, I'm so special then."

Chris's eyes flickered in the dim lighting. "Yeah, you asshole. You are." He hitched up on the couch, leaned forward, and hesitantly fit his lips over Luke's. The fingers around his wrist tightened quickly enough that Chris pulled back, apologies ready on his lips, barely reading the intense stare that had come over Luke's features before Luke tugged back on his wrist.

Chris landed his free hand on Luke's shoulder to avoid toppling over completely as Luke kissed him again. The stubble felt strange and rough in a way he wasn't expecting to enjoy (but did) as his hand tightened over Luke's shoulder, digging into the fabric of the army jacket he always wore. Luke's hand slipped around his neck, his casted one pressing solidly into the small of his back. Chris grunted with the awkward angle, but only tightened his grip and slid a hand into the hair at the base of Luke's head to find that the strands was as soft as they looked.

Luke gave an unexpected groan against his lips. It reverberated over Chris's mouth, sparking one from him before he could think to stop it. Maybe he didn't want to stop it. All he knew was that he could feel the kiss from his lips all the way to his damn toes, pleasure sparking like napalm against his spine and neck where Luke touched him.

Chris was almost ready to break it off so he could breathe when a tongue flicked against his lower lip. He gasped sharply, accomplishing the one task of acquiring oxygen, and also of pulling a needy sigh from the back of Luke's throat as Chris resumed kissing him, trying to return the tongue favor more tentatively than he had with any other girl. Luke didn't seem to be having it, and his fingers dug hard into the small of his back where they poked out from the cast. Chris tangled his fingers tighter into the hair at the base of Luke's neck, skimming Luke's lower lip one last time with his tongue, teeth biting too quickly and reaching for more as his thumb drifted over Luke's neck, pushing away the collar of his shirt.

Luke broke away first, breathing hard and sitting in an uncomfortable way that Chris was all too familiar with, given he was in the same situation.

"So…there's that," Chris managed hoarsely, disentangling his fingers from Luke's hair reluctantly.

"Yeah, that," Luke replied, but his voice sounded off, as if he hadn't quite come back yet. He brushed another curious kiss against Chris's lips, still seeming surprised that Chris kissed back. "The beard's weird."

Chris laughed, falling back against the couch, his knees groaning in relief. "I didn't think I'd like the stubble."

Luke shrugged in thought. "I could get used to it," he conceded, but he didn't sound all together certain. He shut his eyes again, exhaustion creeping back into his frame, both of the physical kind and the emotional. "This is going to sound weird…"

Chris leaned slightly against him, pleasantly pleased when Luke didn't shrug him off. "Like anything with us hasn't been?"

Luke sighed. "It's getting less weird, how's that?"

"Well…possibly because you like it?" Chris offered up, and wished he could take it back, because Luke had stiffened at that. "Hey, if it's any consolation, it's not like I'm hating it either. I told you, I wanted to do this," he quickly tried to backtrack.

Luke waved him off though. "I'll work on it," he said gruffly and sat up a little bit. "I didn't mean I was still against it, or weirded out by it, just…" He coughed over his words a bit, as if he couldn't quite get out what he wanted to say. "God, I'm terrible at this."

"No worse than me."

"What I was going to ask, and it's gonna be stupid no matter how I say it…can I stay the night?"

Chris raised an eyebrow.

Luke began to splutter almost immediately. "Not like that, Jesus Christ! God, I meant sleep on your couch; I needed out of Star's Hollow for the night, I wanted to see you, I didn't expect Emily-goddamn-Gilmore to come knocking on my doorstep, I didn't mean it like that when I said "stay the night", I meant—" Luke stopped abruptly when he felt Chris shaking.

Chris struggled with his laughter as Luke's eyes narrowed.

"Well, if you're gonna be like that," Luke muttered and stood to begin looking for his baseball hat.

"No, no, god, it was just…" Chris had to try and catch his breath after Luke's manic, embarrassed spiel. "You're sort of…I don't know…" He waved a hand in the air lamely. "It was cute, that's all."

Luke popped up from behind the couch with a look of reluctance on his face. "Cute? Really? Is this already turning into April's first boyfriend?"

Chris shrugged. "So sue me if there's not a manly way to say you did something endearing. And yeah, you can stay the night, and no, you're not taking the couch. My maid will kill me. She says people who sleep on couches make them bad couches."

Luke raised an eyebrow as he finally swept his hat up, clutching it in his hand. "How big's your bed?"

Chris stood, flipping the hall light on to illuminate the way. "Big enough," he said with a smile. "Come on. I get needing to get away from Star's Hollow."

Luke ambled behind him almost reluctantly. "I can still take the couch; I'll be gone before your maid even gets here. Diner, remember?"

"She'll know. Rosa always knows."

And with that, Luke found himself donning a borrowed pair of sweatpants and tee-shirt to ward off the cold, and, while he still didn't want to give rich people the time of day, he had to admit that Chris's sheets were pretty soft. He had just started to nod off when he noticed a flannel shirt draped over a chair in the room.

Luke was about to ask, but Chris was snoring quietly behind him and he decided to ask another day. A small, (only a little stupid) grin marred his face as he turned back toward Chris, because he was absolutely certain that the flannel draped over the chair was his. He also decided to completely not care when he turned again in sleep and ended up with Chris sprawled over him, chest-to-back.

Instead, he only slept deeper.

XXXXX

Chris wasn't surprised to wake alone, if a little disappointed. Then again, it was 7AM and the diner was probably in full swing for the Monday morning commuters. He stretched in bed and smiled a bit goofily at the indent that Luke had left on the pillow next to his. He wasn't sure what their conversation last night had accomplished, but he only hoped it left Luke in more affable spirits to give this a shot.

He was a little stunned by how much he wished that were the case. Something about this thing was more real to him than anything had ever been, even with the impending cloud of adulthood that Lorelai's pregnancy had brought at the age of sixteen. This was genuine in a different sense, a more tangible way that had less direness attached to it. Desperation, sure, but Chris suspected that it was of a different sort.

He stopped making coffee on the spot when the thought crossed his mind. He knew the mechanics of guys of course; he wasn't completely unaware of the world. He only slightly wondered if Luke did, and how that was making him feel.

Chris stirred his coffee. They would cross that bridge when they came to it.

That, naturally, brought back snips of the conversation from last night, and Chris wondered both absently and sadly if he was burning his bridge to Rory for the sake of something he wasn't sure would last.

XXXXX

Luke wouldn't say he was…apprehensive, so to speak, though it definitely felt that way between the haze of sleepily kissing Chris good-bye and opening the diner. An unsettled twist had definitely wrapped around his heart that didn't give until, just as he thought might happen, Rory popped up in the diner between the breakfast and lunch rushes.

He really ought to see if he could get business up between those two times.

Luke poured her a cup of coffee to go in silence, ignoring her slightly stony stare.

"Take a walk with me?" she asked politely. "I wanted to talk to you again, and I'm headed for New York tonight."

Luke sighed heavily. He should have expected that, but hadn't. He snagged his jacket off the coat rack, barked a few orders to Cesar and Lane, and followed Rory out of the diner like he was being led to his execution.

When they were far enough away from prying ears and eyes, Rory stopped and turned to face him, every inch of her screaming Lorelai. "I wanted to talk to you about this thing with my dad."

"I thought, as you said, it was none of your business, and I would prefer it to stay that way," Luke pointed out. "As I recall, it wasn't your place to say anything. Your dad has bad timing; I was coming over to tell your mom about it that night."

"I don't care about any of that," Rory replied emphatically, her arms crossed both in defense against the cold and as if she were protecting herself. "You want to go screw around with my dad, go nuts."

Luke groaned.

Rory flicked her gaze to the side in apology. "Poor choice of words." She straightened up quickly though to continue. "But if you're going to do that, and I think you are since all I've heard all morning from everyone from Kirk and Lulu to Lane, Miss Patty, and Babette is how your truck's been missing all night and you arrived this morning in the same clothes you were wearing last night—"

"Jeez, does this town ever sleep—"

Rory held up a hand to silence him. "Hey! Interrupting Luke, I didn't not set you up for that knock-knock joke. I'm not finished. I know Grandma came to see you, and I am sorry, but she's doing the same thing I'm doing now. We're looking out for Mom. You know, that woman you asked to marry you and then accused her of dumping what should, for all intents and purposes, be an issue between you and your ex, back into your lap for you to deal with like you should have in the first place?"

Luke's gaze sharpened, because yeah, for him? That was still a sore spot. "You know, I don't have anything to hide from you of all people. Yeah, I was at your dad's last night. And on the subject of things that should be others' issues in the first place, how about you explain how you're going to freeze your dad out permanently if me and him decide to do this?"

Rory looked taken aback. "He would deserve it for a while, don't you think? He swoops in when he knows you guys are in trouble, but hey, twist ending this time, Perry Cox, he was after you instead of Jordan."

Luke grunted in frustration. "He wasn't after anyone! And no father deserves to be shut out permanently. You don't think I'd do anything, have done everything, in my power to keep April in my life? And then your mom and Anna turn it into a "me or her" situation like it's the easiest thing in the world for me to choose between Lorelai and April? Why don't you ask your mom about that argument, huh?"

Rory looked stubborn, the very picture of someone metaphorically digging their heels in. "Mom would never make you choose between her and April. Her and Anna, maybe, but that—" She stopped as the thought dawned on her. "Doesn't Anna get it though? You guys are getting married; isn't that bigger than whatever pissing contest she wants to have with Mom?"

"Rory, it's a lot more complicated than that," Luke said tiredly, because he was seriously tired of rehashing this argument and trying to come at it from both sides of the story. "Honestly, and I told them both this, that you know what? If it were up to me? April is eighteen years old and can damn well do whatever she pleases because if she gets kicked out over it, she'll have a place to stay with me. She's my daughter."

Rory tightened her crossed arms. "I want you to stop hurting my mom," she said bluntly, because she sensed the argument drifting away from her original point. "It's been hard enough between with Grandpa dying two years ago and all of this crap with April's mom."

Luke sighed. "Rory, try to understand. You're making me feel like I have to choose between Anna and Lorelai, and I will not do that because while your mom and dad have always been pretty good about co-parenting you, it has not always been that easy for Anna and me. And just like I'm asking you to not ask me to choose, I'm asking you not to punish your dad for something that he wants."

"It's not just about his needs!" Rory snapped, arms dropping and fists clenching. "Or even yours!" She shook her head furiously before locking her stare again with Luke's. "Are you and mom going to make up?"

"I don't know, Rory. Things have gotten so bad that I'm not sure I can see how we'd be able to fix it," Luke said quietly. "It's pretty broken."

Rory glared at him. "Maybe it's just bent. But you won't know if you don't sit down and talk to her."

"It's not like she's been asking to talk to me! I tried calling, twice, and she never responded." He sighed, definitely done with all of it. "Look, you want to play messenger? You want to do this on behalf of your mother? Then how about you go back and tell her the ball is in her damn court and I have yet to see her check the ball."

Luke walked away, ignoring anything else that Rory might have said in favor of remembering the warmth at his back when had woken up that morning. It was easier to sink into that feeling than the resigned defeat he was getting that maybe it was over before it had started, and it wasn't him and Lorelai that were broken—it was him and Chris.

XXXXX

Chris automatically felt the negativity as he entered the diner around closing time. It was thankfully empty, Luke having even sent the other servers and cooks home to close in solitude. He rapped his knuckles on the countertop lightly since the door had jingled, but no one had appeared.

"Getting ready to close, grill is already down, so if you—" Luke stopped as he exited the kitchen, some of the day melting from his face when he saw Chris. "Strawberry-rhubarb pie and a coffee?"

Chris laughed, but the humor was missing owing to the fact he could see something was already weighing heavily on Luke's shoulders. "Irish coffee?" he offered.

Luke sighed. "Not a good idea. I've got deliveries in the morning, and it's also a double whammy of the book club and some of the bingo ladies who come by for breakfast, brunch, and lunch. Liz called earlier, saying something about her and TJ having not had a date night in a while, so I might be catching babysitting tomorrow night to boot."

Chris had a feeling that wasn't all of it, but he didn't push any further, considering their tentative sort-of-truce at the moment. Still, he couldn't get the anxious feeling that Luke was…something akin to done, maybe closer to out all together so far as Chris was concerned.

Sighing, Chris rose from his seat, one hand jammed into his pocket and the other gripping the counter. "So…I'll see you then?" he asked. While he hoped his tone had been casual, even he could hear the tension wrapped around his voice.

Luke stared resolutely at the stack of receipts he had been flipping through but now laid still. "Yeah, maybe."

Chris started to head for the door, but he paused as he clutched the handle. Something was off, something was deeply wrong. He wasn't sure what had happened between that morning and now, but there was definitely something…not right about Luke's mood and the dismissive good bye.

Luke looked up stubbornly when Chris turned away from leaving. "Look, I'm sorry I can't offer you a 'tonight do us part moment', but it's bad timing right now, and I don't have time to deal with it."

Chris sat down again, shrugging off his overcoat. "What happened?"

Luke viciously flipped through his receipts again. "Nothing," he muttered through gritted teeth. He steeled his frame with his good hand, using the mobility he did have of his casted hand to continue looking through the thin papers. "I'm working so I can try and at least close up at a decent hour so I can get enough sleep so that when I open tomorrow, I don't harass the bingo ladies too much about the fact they never order anything more than water."

Chris tilted his head, scrutinizing the way Luke had all but shut down. He sighed, snagging his coat again and standing. "I guess you'll tell me when you tell me."

Luke shrugged. "Yeah."

Squeezing his eyes shut again the impending hurt of Luke's dismissal, Chris quietly approached the section of counter Luke was busying himself at. Hesitantly, Chris brushed his fingers over Luke's. Luke stopped moving, his near-manic receipt checking coming to a halt.

Chris weighed his words carefully as his hand settled over Luke's. "I don't know what happened between you leaving this morning and now…but if you want to talk about it, you have my number."

Luke remained solidly still, saying nothing in return and staring in resignation at Chris's hand over his own.

"So, I'm just going to go," Chris said quietly, and tightened his grip over Luke's hand before heading for the door. He wasn't sure why he thought Luke would call him back, would maybe grab him by the wrist before leaving, would do or say something.

In the end, however, Luke didn't.

Chris sat in his car, staring tiredly at the dash panel. Something had happened; he just didn't know what, precisely. He tightened his fists on the steering wheel, willing himself to not go back in the diner and demand to know why Luke was suddenly pulling away all over again. He started the car, still not driving away just yet, because part of him (the part that he was seriously starting to second-guess and call an idiot right now) wanted Luke to stop him was preventing him from going.

What Chris told himself was that he was just letting his car warm up.

The self-pitying monologue was interrupted again, however, by a sharp knock on his window. Chris jumped at the noise, hand reaching for the mace he kept in his console out of habit as he rolled the window down.

However, it was Luke, shivering with either the cold, pent-up anger, frustration, or maybe a combination of all three.

Luke swallowed awkwardly. "I will call you. Or text or something. I don't know what the kids are calling it these days."

"Texting works, or calling, or Morse code, if you like," Chris responded neutrally, but his fingers tightened over the steering wheel.

Luke looked side to side for a moment before dipping his head into the car and kissing Chris hard and quick, too fast to be enjoyable but just enough to dispel at least some of the doubt Chris had lingering about the state of their relationship. The intensity and sheer want behind it had Chris's voice locking tightly in his throat.

When Luke pulled back, they were both breathing hard, staring determinedly at anything but each other. Luke's hand still gripped the side of the car door tightly, his eyes casted downward while Chris struggled to find words with his fingers itching to touch.

"I will call you," Luke said darkly, his head shaking to the side as he rocked back to his feet.

Chris nodded tightly because he didn't trust his voice.

Luke sighed—well, maybe it was more of a grunt than anything else, but Chris wasn't sure. "Chris…" he murmured. "Just…" He sighed irritably as if he could barely find words himself, and when he spoke again, the words were stilted. "Rory and I talked today. It wasn't pretty."

Chris was finally able to look at him. "And?"

Luke snorted, his head turning again as he looked slightly manic and desperate. "I think if I was going to get Gilmore'd, as you put it, I'd rather it have been Emily."

Chris nodded and, though he was still unsure of his voice, he replied, "Yeah. Rory packs her own special kind of punch." He finally loosened his hands on the steering wheel, mostly because his knuckles had gone white.

Luke straightened a bit. "So…I'll call you, okay?"

"Yeah," Chris responded, though he wasn't sure he believed Luke. "Call me. Or I'll call you. We'll see what happens." He swallowed thickly.

Luke backed away from the car. "So…see you later." He trudged off, as if he wanted to actually do the opposite.

Chris blew out a sigh, not realizing he'd been holding his breath until Luke had gone. Rory had definitely gotten to him, and yet, Chris wasn't surprised.

After all, Chris knew Rory's world, the one that loaded words like a gun, and Emily had certainly taught her well. He leaned his head against the headrest of his seat, trying to forget the intensity of Luke's last kiss, the strong bulk of him lingering outside of his car, the way Chris could still smell him—stale food, cold air, and the underlying scent of deodorant or shampoo; he wasn't sure.

Chris put the car in drive, and promised himself that no matter what happened at this point, he would be there for Luke in any way he could, damn what anyone else thought or deducted from there.

When Chris got home, the apartment was clean like normal since Rosa had definitely been there, as was evidenced by the plate of food in the fridge with instructions in Spanish on how to reheat it properly. He smiled at it, and threw the plate in the microwave as he went back into the living room to check his messages.

The microwave went off just as Sherri finished telling him over a message that Gigi would be staying with him for the weekend, but owing to a three-day break so the teachers could conduct parent-teacher conferences, Gigi would be arriving Wednesday morning at 7AM and staying with him for the duration. She had also mentioned that Gigi was missing her father and looking forward to the break.

Chris sighed, his appetite disappearing even as the microwave beeped again to remind him it was done. More than likely, Gigi might want to see her half-sister while she was back state-side, which meant calling Rory, who had just started a new assignment that was local for once and allowed her a bit more freedom than her last one.

With yet another expulsion of breath, Chris picked up the phone resolutely so he could call Sherri for more details. He wasn't looking forward to calling Rory, given what he did know about his daughter confronting Luke, but he also knew it would be better to warn her of a possible visit than to simply try and spring it on her.

The only thing that really got him through it all was the text he had received from Luke.

I WILL call you. Don't worry.

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, peeps!