Author's note: Hi guys, welcome to chapter 21! While our beloved, flannel-clad Mr Fix It is usually too busy taking care of everyone else, sometimes, even he needs a helping hand and I for one think Lorelai is the right girl for the job!

I've put a lot of heart and soul into this chapter so reviews would mean the world to me! I hope you like it :)

Warning: This chapter contains mature content so read at your own risk!

Story recap: Last chapter, Luke dropped the L-bomb, leaving Lorelai spinning. Knowing she wasn't ready to say it back, he withdrew any hint of pressure, telling her that he wasn't expecting to hear it from her. He also committed to only saying it again if/when she was ready. Lorelai was able to talk things over with Mia, who rightly pointed out that falling in love was entirely outside the realm of control. It also dawned on Lorelai that perhaps that very thing might have happened without her noticing…

-o-

"Coffee, coffee, coffee! Make it fast, make it snappy, make it bigger than Babs Streisand's honker. Move it Burger Boy; I'm on the clock!"

Reaching beneath the counter for a to-go cup, Luke eyed the whirlwind that was his girlfriend and intoned dryly, "Where's the fire?"

"I've got to be at Miss Patty's in T-minus…three minutes," she concluded with a nod, having paused to check her watch.

"Pick-up duty?"

"Yep, the ankle-biter's just about to finish her lesson."

"You know, I can have you out the door much quicker if you go for a nice, healthy bottle of water instead," he pointed out hopefully, watching as she settled herself on her usual stool.

"Nice try wise guy, but I like my beverages like I like my men – hot, steamy and highly caffeinated. Chop, chop!"

Picking up the pot and beginning to pour, he frowned, clarifying, "You like your men highly caffeinated?"

"Ah, you got me," she conceded. "Just the coffee. But I wouldn't knock back an Irish variety of either."

"No coffee for you," he threatened, shooting her a petulant glare.

"I mean, I wouldn't knock back an Irishman if I didn't already have a hot, sexy all-American man at my disposal, which, of course, I do," she backtracked with a flirty smile, desperate for her beloved brew.

"Getting warmer," he growled, still refraining from handing over the coveted beverage.

"Lukey baby, you're the manliest man to ever walk the planet and I've only got eyes for you," she gushed, laying it on thick and batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

"Better," he grunted, fastening the lid in place and sliding the cup toward her. "Feel free to lose the patronizing tone next time."

"You got it doll. Perfect that Irish brogue of yours and I'll do anything you want," she said with a wink.

Reveling in the scowl that graced his features, she took a deep gulp of the liquid gold and hastily dug in her wallet for change. As usual, he waved her off, but she insisted on paying so he wordlessly handed over two muffins on the house.

"While I remember, Rory's dance recital is coming up. Patty says my baby's about as coordinated as Bambi on ice skates, bless her, but she's bound to look super cute and I'm sure she'd love to have you there. Wanna come and cheer her on with me?"

"Sure," he shrugged, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Name the day and I'm there."

"I think it's next Thursday," she said, scrunching up her face as she tried to work out what day the recital fell on without having a calendar in front of her. "Anyway, it's definitely the thirtieth of November so whatever week night that falls on next week."

His heart thudded in his chest at the mention of the familiar date, and when he found his voice, he managed to croak out, "Er…the thirtieth?" At her nod, he added, "That er…that day's not so good for me, sorry. I don't think I'll be able to make it."

He busied himself pulling slips from the till, grateful for the excuse to direct his eyes anywhere but at her.

"You have a shift that night?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he mumbled, his eyes still downcast. "Just a thing, you know, had it in the diary for a while now. It's out of town so…" he trailed off, hoping she'd drop it.

"Oh, I didn't know you were going to be away. Where are you off to?" she asked curiously, and he could tell she was just being inquisitive as opposed to nosy.

Reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, he answered vaguely, "Nowhere special. Just out west."

"Right," she said slowly, registering his reluctance to provide any further detail.

He felt his gut twist uncomfortably when he looked up and caught the flash of disappointment in her eyes. She recovered quickly and looked as though she might say more, but promptly stopped when he pointed to the clock and said, "Don't you need to collect Rory?"

Lorelai gasped, realizing he was right and hastily sliding from her stool. She slung her handbag over one shoulder, grabbed her coffee cup in one hand and legged it for the door, calling out her hurried goodbyes as she headed for the dance studio.

-o-

Luke felt the colossal weight pressing down against his chest before he opened his eyes. For a moment, he laid paralyzed, his body rigid and his lungs seemingly unable to draw breath in the dark bedroom.

The feeling wasn't foreign to him. The wave of irrepressible anguish reared its ugly head each cold and bitter November and it took every ounce of strength he possessed to ride it out; to stop himself from crumbling into a million tiny pieces and to make it through the one day that broke him like no other: His dark day.

For a moment, he listened to the steady rhythm of Lorelai's breathing, his girlfriend completely oblivious to the ache in his chest as she slept peacefully. He tempered down the urge to trail his finger across the porcelain skin of her jaw, instead forcing himself to turn away from her. It was better this way.

Fighting to draw a few steadying breaths, he quietly slipped from the bed, padding across the darkened room and down the stairs to the Crap Shack's kitchen. He didn't need to look at the calendar on the refrigerator to register the date. November 30. It was forever burned into his brain.

Making sure to be quiet so as not to wake Rory, Luke filled the kettle and set it up to boil. He drew a mug from the cupboard and dropped a teabag into it, the familiar routine doing little to distract him from his thoughts, but at least giving him something to do with his restless hands. After pouring the boiling water into the mug, he set it aside and rested his weight against the counter top, absently directing his gaze out over the yard despite the pre-dawn darkness that blanketed the town.

He didn't know how long he'd been there when he registered rustling behind him, and he didn't bother to turn at the sound. He already knew who it was.

"Luke?" came Lorelai's sleep-filled voice, a touch of concern lacing her words.

She tightened the belt of her robe against the morning chill and moved across the room to rest her palm against his back. "You okay babe?"

Ignoring her question, he said a little more gruffly than intended, "What are you doing awake?"

She faltered for only a second, her expression quizzical as she responded, "I was going to ask you the same question. It's 4am."

When he didn't answer immediately, she added softly, "I woke up and you weren't there. The sheets were cold. I thought you might have been sick or something."

"I'm fine," he grunted, his gaze never moving from the window.

"How long have you been down here?"

He shrugged, the muscle twitching in his jaw. His untouched tea sat beside him, now cold.

"Hon?" she ventured again gently.

"I said I was fine," he snapped, and despite not witnessing her flinch, he immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. "Go back to bed Lorelai," he sighed.

Her hand dropped from his back but she made no effort to move for a few moments, as if she was contemplating whether it was best to leave or stay. Finally, she retreated, feeling both a little confused and hurt as she eyed his solid frame from the kitchen doorway. His hands still rested against the counter top and she noticed his shoulders were taut with tension.

Turning on her heel, she murmured quietly, "I'm here if you need me," before slinking back toward the stairs.

He wanted to go after her, but that paralysing force held him in place once more, and the guilt merely amplified the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He sighed heavily, and after a further 10 minutes of staring off into the abyss, he poured the tea down the sink.

When Lorelai woke again some time later, Luke was gone. He hadn't bothered to set the coffee to brew, and she took that as an indication that he'd left hours prior. She racked her brain for anything she may have inadvertently said or done to prompt his sullen mood, but for the life of her, she couldn't come up with a plausible explanation. They'd gone to bed on good terms and his atypical behavior had seemingly come out of nowhere.

Biting her lip apprehensively, she eyed her watch and concluded she would have to put her worries aside for now. She needed to get Rory up and ready for school and finalize her costume for the evening's recital.

After dropping Rory off at her classroom, Lorelai hesitated for a moment, debating whether to head directly to the inn or swing past the diner. On one hand, she didn't care to see him; if he was just in a mood, then Luke could damn well come to find her and apologize. On the other hand, she longed to know the reason for his surlier-than-usual temperament. Her track record of disastrous relationships suggested it may well have been her fault in some way and if that was the case, she was desperate to fix it. Their relationship was too important not to.

Reasoning that she'd never get any work done while it sat unresolved, she strode toward the diner, intent on getting answers. When the bells announced her arrival, Luke's blue eyes locked with hers, his face expressionless. Uncertain, Lorelai approached the counter and murmured a shy "hi" as she pulled up a stool. He nodded in return and while it looked as though he wanted to say something, he seemed to think better of it, settling for a mumbled, "Coffee?"

Lorelai nodded meekly, breathing a sigh of relief when she noticed the town's gossips were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the diner was surprisingly deserted for a weekday morning, and she briefly wondered if it had anything to do with the faint smell of burnt food hanging in the air.

Before she could formulate a sentence, Kirk interrupted her thought process, commanding Luke's attention.

"As I was saying before Lorelai so rudely interrupted, what do you think is a more impressive mode of transport on a date? A pushbike or a unicycle?" he asked seriously.

"And I told you we're not having this conversation," Luke barked, sliding a steaming mug in front of his girlfriend without so much as an ounce of banter.

Accustomed to the man's gruff manner, Kirk pressed on regardless. "I mean, a pushbike allows both of us to get to our destination efficiently, but I feel my unicycle skills are so advanced that they're bound to charm her into accepting a second date."

"I'm amazed there's a first," Luke muttered.

"So you think I should go with the unicycle?" Kirk quizzed.

"I think you should quit bombarding me with pointless questions."

"Luke, this could be the most important evening of my life," Kirk argued, taking a bite of his charred excuse for a tuna melt. "I cannot afford to take this decision lightly."

"Ever heard of a car?"

"My mother says I'm not allowed to participate in adult activities like getting my license until I can go a whole year without wetting the bed," Kirk sighed. "I was doing so well until I watched The Smurfs last week and had a night terror."

Luke paused wiping down the counter momentarily at Kirk's admission, but shook it off a moment later, continuing on with his task.

"Maybe I should just have my mother drive us," Kirk suggested, his expression thoughtful.

"'Cos that won't kill the mood at all."

Missing the blatant sarcasm, Kirk nodded. "I think you're right. In any case, my lycra pants can get very uncomfortable after a few hours so it's probably best I bypass the cycling."

When Luke didn't reply, Kirk asked, "So where do you think I should I take her?"

The simple question prompted a vein to bulge in Luke's forehead and Lorelai could see his temper rising even quicker than usual when it came to Kirk. There was something definitely off with him today, and the idea was further reinforced by the uncharacteristically sub-par coffee filling her mug.

"For the last time Kirk, I'm not working today," he growled. "Quit bugging me."

"The fact you're standing right in front of me would suggest otherwise."

"I mean it. I'm only here because Caesar couldn't do the morning shift. I'm setting up, I'm serving breakfast and I'm leaving, you got it?" he snapped, turning to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

Looking desperate, Kirk begged, "But Luke, I can't do this without your help. What if I mess it up and my mother says I can never date again?"

"Then you'll be doing the broader female population a favor," Luke deadpanned.

"I'm being serious."

"What makes you think I'm not?"

"Please Luke. I just need an idea. Some kind of outing or event."

"You know this god damn town has at least seven million events every week, right? Pick one of those. Take her to the art exhibition at the high school that Taylor's been ramming down everyone's throats for the last month."

"I'm not allowed to go within 100 feet of a school," Kirk countered, his face solemn.

"You're what?" Luke began incredulously, but then thought better of it. "You know what, I don't care. Sort your own date out. You're a big boy." He jammed the porta filter into place on the coffee machine with more force than was necessary and stomped off to grab a fresh supply of coffee beans from the store room.

When he returned, Kirk resumed his questioning again immediately, seemingly oblivious to Luke's growing frustration.

"Luke, what should I…?" he began, but was promptly cut off by Luke slamming the bag of coffee beans down on the counter top. The packaging split open, sending beans flying in all directions.

"Enough Kirk!" Luke raged. "We're done here, okay? If you're that desperate, go and ask somebody else."

"But Luke, you're my best friend. I…"

"I'm not your best friend," Luke thundered. "Hell, we're not friends at all. You come to my diner every day and I serve you breakfast. That makes me your food supplier, not your friend. Do you understand?"

"But…" Kirk sputtered, looking crestfallen.

"If I'm the best you've got then you're leading a pretty pathetic existence. You hear me? You're pathetic! Get out, Kirk! I mean it. Get out and get a life while you're at it. Now," he threatened, his eyes wide and his chest heaving.

Lorelai watched on in dismay, shocked by Luke's outburst and uncharacteristic callousness. He'd never hidden his exasperation when it came to Kirk, but she knew overall, he showed him more kindness than almost anybody. Now though, there was no mistaking the spite in his tone and her heart broke at the sight of Kirk's despondent face.

"Kirk," she began. "He didn't mean…"

"It's okay Lorelai. I'm going now," he responded, swallowing thickly as he stepped down from his stool. "I know when I'm not wanted."

When she opened her mouth to continue, Luke interjected with a gruff, "Let him go."

Scrambling to help Kirk pick up his My Little Pony satchel from the floor, Lorelai offered him an apologetic look and a reassuring squeeze of his arm as he left the diner, his shoulders slumped.

Despite wanting nothing more than to unleash her fury and give Luke a piece of her mind, Lorelai reasoned that the handful of remaining diner patrons had already received a lot more than the breakfast they'd bargained for. The argument would be best saved for later.

Instead, she bent to pick up some of the coffee beans scattered across the floor, stiffening when Luke barked irritably, "Leave it."

Almost on cue, Taylor entered the diner, a clipboard clutched to his chest and a smug look on his face. Oblivious to tense atmosphere, he announced, "Ah Luke, I'm glad I caught you. I met with the Town Beautification Committee yesterday and it has come to our attention that the Williams Hardware sign hanging above your establishment violates statute 412, clause 10 of the Town Beautification Charter. It gives the false impression that you are, in fact, operating a hardware store as opposed to a diner, which quite frankly is…"

He didn't get a chance to finish his spiel before the dancing pork chop sign barreled toward his head at speed.

-o-

Luke's hands were clenched tight against the steering wheel, his white knuckles afforded no respite despite having been in the same position for the better part of three hours.

He barely registered the dense forest lining the roadside as he pressed down on the gas pedal, intent on reaching his destination as soon as possible. He knew spending time at the cabin would do little to ease the sting in his chest, but years of experience had taught him it was better than staying in Stars Hollow.

At the cabin it was just him, a lake and trees stretching for as far as the eye could see. Maybe a few squirrels. There, he could crawl within himself and prevent the hurtful words from tumbling from his lips; stop the pain from exploding on everyone and everything around him when it inevitably bubbled to the surface.

He was convinced there was no remedy for the darkness that consumed him each year, but he'd shouldered the ache long enough to know that getting away was the only way of protecting others from the firing line. No one deserved to face his wrath.

He hated the alter-ego he involuntarily assumed one day each November; hated his dad for leaving too soon; hated himself for being too weak to forget.

Signaling right onto the dirt track, he wound his way through the canopy of green, thousands of pine needles dusting the cool ground and muting the sound of his tires. He pulled to a stop in the clearing, his hands maintaining their iron grip on the wheel as he took in the familiar surroundings. The earthy smell of pine and damp soil pervaded his senses, and for the briefest of moments, his lungs allowed him to draw in a full breath.

Luke remained in the truck for a few minutes, lowering his head until his forehead rested against the hard steering wheel. Once he worked up the energy to stand, he hauled himself from the vehicle, bypassing the cabin in favor of the wooden dock.

With December just around the corner, it wouldn't be long before the river was frozen solid. As it was, the cold temperatures limited the amount of animal life in sight, and Luke took the opportunity to soak in the stillness by the water.

He closed his eyes for a time, knowing that the second he examined his surroundings in more detail, the memories would come flooding back. Memories of a time when his greatest trial was attempting to identify which area of the river was laden with fish on any given day.

All in all, he knew he should be grateful for what had been, but he couldn't deny the touch of resentment he felt for the years of memory-making that had been prematurely snatched away by the cruel claws of time. His mother had been too young to die; too good and too full of vigor. Of that, he was sure.

While he missed her terribly, nothing rivalled the indescribable anguish of watching his father waste away to a shell of a man while Luke sat helpless and ineffectual. Every day, he'd silently begged for the universe, the gods, hell anybody, to take him instead; to spare his father the pain of being fed through tubes and pumped with so many drugs that William dry wretched for hours on end and watched his remaining hair fall away in clumps.

For Luke, his exoneration had never come, and instead he had learned what it felt like to have his heart ripped from his chest; to be bloodied and maimed and incomplete and powerless, and worst of all, to have lived, when he would have given anything to simply crumble away into oblivion.

More than anything, he hated that his father's suffering had been for naught. The rounds of chemotherapy had robbed William of all the qualities that made him him, and when the light finally disappeared from his eyes in those final weeks, Luke knew the writing was on the wall. He didn't need the white coats to spell it out for him.

In the years since, he'd learnt to get by.

Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat. The mantra had served him well, and for the better part of a decade, he'd operated on autopilot, running through the motions without truly attaching to anyone or anything. He knew most of the prying townsfolk believed Rachel to be the exception, and he'd done his best to convince himself of that. But if he dug into the deepest depths of his soul, even he could recognize he had purposefully chosen something – someone – that was eternally unavailable. Her lust for travel would forever keep her at arm's length.

Sitting on the dock, the icy wind bit at Luke's skin, turning his cheeks red and raw. More than two hours ticked by, and with just his army green jacket for warmth, he began to feel numb – something he was grateful for in place of the hurt. Normally, it was the beer that had that effect, but this year, he couldn't even summon the energy to pull his six-pack from the truck.

He could see his parents in every inch of his surroundings – his dad baiting a fishing hook or filleting the day's catch down by the water's edge; his mom pushing Liz on the old tire swing; all four of them crowded around the coffee table playing board games.

The memories were so raw that on this occasion, he found it easier not to venture inside the cabin, so he remained stationary, his legs dangling over the edge of the weathered dock.

He imagined what it would be like if his parents were still alive and could meet the two new loves of his life.

He had no doubt the girls would be welcomed with open arms. His mom would cook them the biggest feast known to man and Lorelai would ardently declare her intention to marry the legendary cherry pie as soon as food-human unions became legally recognized. She'd whine about being dragged on a fishing expedition, but eventually concede to coming out on the boat, no doubt driving him crazy as she sunbaked in a barely-there bikini. She'd banter and laugh, making wisecracks and delighting everyone around her.

Rory would steal his parents' hearts the second she walked through the door, and he imagined her blue eyes widening in a mixture of fear and excitement as he demonstrated launching from the makeshift tree swing into the river below. She'd revel in reading a book beneath the trees and toasting marshmallows over the fire pit he and his dad would spend the better part of an afternoon dotingly preparing.

The thought was bittersweet, and he felt a pang in his chest at the realization it would never become a reality.

As thoughts of Lorelai and Rory circled his mind, he was reminded of Lorelai's parting words as she'd stormed out of the diner earlier that day.

Come and find me when you're done being a jerk.

The heated statement reverberated around his head and he winced at the memory of the disbelief and anger in her eyes. He couldn't blame her for being pissed at him; he knew he'd been a royal ass and he deserved every bit of her wrath. He just hoped she'd forgive him.

Even worse, he'd seen the disappointment written on her face the week prior when he'd informed her he wouldn't be able to make Rory's dance recital. The decision reeked of Christopher, and he'd almost relented before remembering that he couldn't be trusted not to ruin Rory's special night. He'd never forgive himself if he exploded with the 11-year-old nearby.

Picking up a pebble that had somehow migrated onto the wooden platform, Luke flung it across the water, watching it skim the surface before finally sinking into the river's depths.

He sighed heavily, feeling his muscles quiver as they snapped out of their frozen state. Examining his hands, he noticed his fingers had turned a light shade of blue. Judging by the feel of his lips, he ascertained they weren't much better off.

He knew Rory would have finished school by now and would be bursting with nerves and excitement in the lead-up to her performance. Lorelai had taken the afternoon off work and he imagined her sitting down on Rory's bed and gently twisting the young girl's hair into some kind of intricate braid.

If he'd been in Stars Hollow, he would have prepared an afternoon snack at the diner and delivered it to them, making sure to slip in the occasional vegetable where years of experience had taught him it would go unnoticed. Lorelai would kiss him and wipe a smidgen of gloss from his lips with a mischievous smile and Rory would excitedly show him her costume and stress about remembering her steps.

His heart ached to be with them and he found himself questioning why he'd ever left town at all.

Letting out a ragged breath, he watched as it turned white in the cold air then dissolved.

"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered, eyeing his watch and mentally calculating how long it would take him to drive back to Stars Hollow. Springing to his feet and taking off at run, he lunged for the truck and pressed hard on the gas.

Come hell or high water, he'd show up for his girls.

-o-

His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on her back amidst the crowded room. Her curls hung loose around her shoulders and he itched to run his fingers through them.

As always, she was surrounded by people, not a seat to spare in the rows around her. Mia sat to her left and Luke watched as the older woman leaned over to whisper something in his girlfriend's ear.

Girlfriend. If he could still call her that.

Lorelai turned her head to respond and he caught a glimpse of her smile, noting that it didn't quite reach her eyes.

More than anything, he hated that his poor behavior was most likely the reason for that. He wanted nothing more than to go to her and beg for forgiveness; to see her smile with genuine warmth. But for now, it would have to wait. Tonight was about Rory.

The dance acts took to the stage one by one, Luke hardly paying any attention to the hordes of kids flouncing about in a sea of tulle. He'd arrived 20 minutes into the recital, grateful that Rory's performance was scheduled toward the end of the program. When her group finally took to the stage, his heart stopped in his chest. He watched her sauté, pirouette and prance around in her nymph-themed costume, her face serious as she focused on remembering which move came next. He couldn't help but smile softly when she missed a step and hurriedly tried to catch up, many of her fellow dancers also moving out of time.

He felt a lump burning in his throat as the performance came to an end, his eyes crinkling in a proud smile as he clapped and took in the sight of the little girl he adored bowing to the audience. Lorelai's cheers were by far the loudest, and she rose to her feet, whistling encouragingly.

He remained standing off to the side until the recital eventually drew to a close. The crowd thinned as the kids began to migrate from back stage, locating their parents, reveling in their praise and journeying home for the night. It took a few minutes for Rory to emerge, the young girl still dressed in her green costume as she ran directly into Lorelai's arms. She accepted Mia's hug as well, the 11-year-old all smiles and talking animatedly. While Luke couldn't hear the words tumbling from her lips from his position by the door, he could tell by the way she bounced on the balls of her feet that she was beyond excited.

Her piercing squeal alerted him to the fact that she'd spotted him across the room and Rory didn't hesitate for a second before setting off toward him and barreling into his awaiting arms.

"Luke! You came!" she exclaimed delightedly, her eyes wide and oh-so-blue.

"Couldn't miss seeing my ballerina perform now, could I?"

He pulled her into a tight hug and breathed in her sweet, childlike smell. He vaguely registered the scent of marshmallows in her shampoo and basked in having her warm, tiny body cradled against his chest.

Drawing back, he remained crouched in front of her as he took hold of both of her hands and lifted them, allowing him to take in her costume.

"Where's Rory and what have you done with her?" he croaked, a twinkle in his eye. "She's turned green!"

Rory giggled appreciatively, twirling in a circle to show off the back of her costume.

"Wow, your mom's outdone herself with this one, Squirt. Your costume looks great," he praised, fingering one of the long ribbons that cascaded from her headpiece.

Rory nodded, smoothing the tulle of her tutu and continuing to beam.

"She said you weren't coming but I told her you would," she explained chirpily.

"Well, I was out of town today so I told your mom I didn't think I'd be able to make it. But then I got to thinking that there was nothing more important than being right here with you, so I turned the truck around and high-tailed it here."

"I'm so glad you did," she gushed, wrapping her little arms around his neck once more and soaking in the soft kiss he pressed into her hair.

"Right back at you kid. You did great up there."

As he patted her back softly, her head still tucked against his neck, he looked up to see Lorelai staring at them from across the room. They locked gazes, but her expression remained neutral.

"I'm gonna go tell Mom you're here," Rory said excitedly, pulling back from his embrace. She'll be so happy to see you."

The young girl scampered back off toward her mother, oblivious to the tension between the two adults. He watched as she pointed him out, her eyes sparkling and her expression jubilant.

Both Lorelai and Mia smiled at Rory, and when Mia crouched down to say something to her, her head bobbed excitedly. Mia and Lorelai conversed back and forward for a few moments, before Lorelai finally nodded and bent to give her daughter a hug, settling her coat around her small frame. Returning to her full height, she clapped her hands on Rory's shoulders and though Luke was too far away to register the words, he'd witnessed that scene enough times before to know she was instructing Rory to behave.

As Mia and Rory made to leave, they wound their way over to his position by the door.

"Luke! Mia's going to take me for ice cream!" Rory said enthusiastically. "And I get to have a sleepover at her house with Antonia Banderas!"

"Oh, you girls," Mia chastised half-heartedly. "That poor dog is already confused enough without you going and giving her a new name."

Luke snorted, but squeezed Rory's upper arm affectionately as he said, "That sounds like fun, Squirt. Have a great time. Don't go too heavy on the colored sprinkles, yeah?"

She rolled her eyes playfully and happily accepted Mia's proffered hand.

"Night Luke, I'm so glad you came."

"My pleasure kid. Sweet dreams."

He offered Mia what he hoped was a grateful look and she touched his forearm lightly, her face a mixture of both sympathy and something stern that read a lot like 'sort it out'.

After watching them descend the steps of the dance studio, his eyes were drawn back to Lorelai, who still stood among the rows of chairs, waiting.

Exhaling, he shuffled over to her, his hands automatically falling to his pockets as he murmured a simple, "Hey."

"Hey," she returned, her eyes wary but never leaving his.

"You wanna…" he said softly, using one thumb to gesture toward the door.

"Yeah."

He nodded, and they made their way out into the square, both instinctively inching toward the blackened diner. Lorelai wrapped her arms around her body for warmth and bowed her head against the cold, and Luke had to resist the urge to pull her to him.

When they made it inside, they padded up the stairs wordlessly, Luke only bothering to flick on one light in the dark apartment. Lorelai stood by the door and eyed him cautiously as he made his way over to the kitchen bench.

Pulling out a mug, he pointed to it and asked, "You want?"

"No," came the soft reply, and Luke paused for a moment, his back turned as he contemplated how best to begin.

He didn't have to think long, when Lorelai broke the silence.

"Mia says I should cut you some slack today." At his grunt, she admitted quietly, "I'm not sure that I want to."

He simply nodded, turning to face her. "You're right. You shouldn't. I'm a jackass."

"Yes, you are," she agreed, her chin jutting out defiantly but her tone yielding.

"Lorelai…I…" he faltered, struggling to find the right words. "I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

She surveyed him for a moment before acknowledging, "I'm gonna need a little more than that. What's going on Luke?"

He cast his baseball cap aside, running one hand through his messy hair and leaving it sticking up at odd angles. She couldn't help but notice how disheveled he looked and she forced down the urge to go to him.

He spoke the words so quietly that she almost didn't catch them, and she noticed that he couldn't quite meet her eyes as they fell from his lips.

"Today's the anniversary of my dad's death."

"Oh," she said in realization, her lips parted as she processed the words. Of all the scenarios that had passed through her mind, that hadn't been one of them. She'd been prepared for battle but suddenly felt her anger melt away.

"I...I don't really like to talk about it. Every year, I get in this kind of funk and…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Oh, Luke," she sighed, taking one step closer to him. "I'm so sorry."

"Usually, I take off. Don't work. Don't talk to anyone. It's better that way. Then I can't hurt anybody."

When he lifted his head and locked eyes with her, she could see the mixture of pain and sincerity pooling in their depths. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispered truthfully.

"Oh hon, it's okay," she soothed, walking to him and cupping his cheek in her palm. "It's okay," she repeated, running her hand down his arm and drawing him to her.

He let part of his weight fall against her and held tight to her soft warmth as his face pressed into her neck, breathing her in.

Sensing that he was too drained to stand for much longer, Lorelai guided him to the bed and helped him to sit on the edge. She stood facing him, her hands buried in his hair as he allowed his head to come to rest against her stomach. His breath came in short puffs and he felt a slight fissure across his heart as he desperately clung to the simple comfort she offered.

"My dad would have kicked my ass if he saw how I behaved today," he croaked, his voice gravelly.

"Ssshhh," she soothed.

"I was horrible. I am horrible," he corrected hoarsely.

"You are not horrible. You're grieving Luke. It's okay to be sad."

"I took it out on you."

"To be fair, I think Kirk copped the brunt of it."

He groaned against her, covering his eyes in shame.

"It was bad, wasn't it?" he asked, more a statement than a question.

"Don't worry. He'll come around. You know Kirk. He'll be back annoying you in no time."

"I need to apologize."

"I think he'd appreciate that," she said softly, stroking his hair as his eyes met hers. "He looks up to you, you know."

Luke brandished one hand self-deprecatingly, before bringing it back to rest against her hip. "He's just a kid, Lorelai. I beat up on a kid," he said remorsefully.

"He's not much younger than you, you know that. Just a bit of a late starter," she said, smiling softly. "But I agree; an apology would go a long way."

He nodded, utterly ashamed of himself. As an afterthought, he growled, "I'm not apologizing to Taylor."

"No, he had that one coming," she conceded, her lips quirking up at the sides.

"Did I mention how sorry I am? To you?"

"Let it go babe. It's forgotten."

"You didn't deserve to be snapped at," he pressed.

"No, but at least I understand why now. I wish you would have just talked to me. I could have tried to help."

"You would have, wouldn't you?" he said softly, more to himself than her. He caressed her hip lightly with his thumb, the repetitive motion somewhat soothing. "I might be beyond help," he admitted, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Then we're two peas in a pod," she smiled, doing her best to lighten the mood a little.

"God I love you," he breathed against the wool of her sweater. "I know I said I wouldn't say it again until we were both there but damn, if I don't." He hooked his thumb underneath the hem of her top and lifted it just enough to expose a strip of creamy, white skin. He pressed his lips to her flesh, then rested his cheek against her stomach. "I don't deserve you."

"I think you've got that around the wrong way," she countered. "I don't deserve you. For all you do for Rory and I, I think I can manage a little snappiness once in a while."

"Rory," he repeated, his mind casting back to her ballet performance as he looked up at Lorelai. "How great was our girl tonight?" he added proudly, squeezing her waist.

She laughed and dropped down to the bed beside him, taking him with her as she flopped back on the mattress. "Pretty great," she agreed whole-heartedly. "The best."

"I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest when she pulled off the pirouette."

"All bets were off after last week's disastrous practice but she nailed it. I'm a proud mama."

"You should be," he whispered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. "You know, I never thought this day would get any easier, but seeing her tonight…"

"Kind of melts your heart, huh?" Lorelai answered knowingly, patting his chest.

He nodded, inching forward to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear.

"I'm an idiot. I can't believe I almost didn't show up for her big night. What kind of jerk does that?"

"You came through in the end," she pointed out, aware that he was already beating himself up enough for the both of them.

"I didn't want my crabbiness to ruin the night for her," he admitted truthfully, clearing his throat and letting his eyes drift down to the comforter. "This day…sometimes it's just…" he shook his head, unable to get the words out. "She's just so little and innocent. I never want to be the guy that can't keep his shit together in front of her, you know? I never want to hurt her, so I thought it might be better to stay away," he stressed, and his voice cracked a little.

"You were acting like a dad," she whispered, her fingers running across the stubble coating his jaw.

At his inquiring look, she elaborated, "You weren't going to show up because you were worried you'd upset her if the anniversary got too much to handle. And you didn't want to disappoint her by staying away and missing her performance, so you came and you held it together for her. All I see is a guy who was consistently putting a little girl's needs ahead of his own."

"But it shouldn't have even been a question," he growled, completely frustrated with himself. "I should be able to just deal with it and get on with life. Not lose my cool with you or Kirk or Rory or anyone else." His eyes pleading with her for answers, he added, "Why does this damn day get to me so much?"

"You're grieving babe," Lorelai murmured softly. "It's okay to miss him."

Luke shook his head, struggling to accept her words.

"But I was close with my mom and my grandma too. I don't turn into this…this…this loose cannon every time their anniversaries roll around."

Lorelai offered him a sad smile. "Well, you were just a kid when your mom passed. Your dad probably sheltered you from it as much as he could. And maybe this one's that much harder because you lost a lot of other things that day too."

Luke swallowed, recognizing what she meant without her needing to spell it out.

His dad had been his final link to their family. Liz had disappeared with Jess by that point; his mom and grandparents had long passed; he'd been forced to sell the family home; and any semblance of innocence he'd managed to hold onto had upped and left the second the medical bills and failing hardware store landed squarely on his shoulders.

Registering his inability to speak, Lorelai rubbed his arm soothingly and whispered, "I'm far from an expert, but I don't think there's much rhyme or reason to things when it comes to losing the people we love. As far as I can tell, there isn't a point when it magically becomes all better. You just have to do what you can to get by."

Luke nodded, his eyes stinging as he did his best to maintain his composure.

She found herself contemplating whispering those three all-important words for the first time, but predictably, they fell short on her lips. Taking in his despairing face, her gut told her this day – a day of unrelenting sadness – was not the right time anyway.

"I'm here for you," she said softly, her palm coming to rest against his chest as she took in his steady heartbeat. "Whatever you need. I'll always be here. Tell me what I can do."

He drank her in with adoring eyes, a traitorous sob caught in his throat.

"I'm scared to have you here. I don't want to hurt you again," he admitted, his voice raw.

"I can take it. We're in this together. But I can go if you want to be alone," she offered, her voice barely more than a whisper.

His eye contact never wavering, Luke shook his head and murmured, "I don't want to be alone Lorelai."

She could see the moisture he was fighting hard to repress pooling in his eyes, and she felt her own throat tighten in response. She cradled him to her, tucking his head against her chest in an act of reassurance and protectiveness, just as she so often did with her daughter. They laid there in comfortable silence for a long while, Lorelai tracing one finger lightly over his jaw, brow and unshaven cheeks, grateful to be able to offer comfort in his time of need.

Sometime later, she propped herself up on one elbow, taking in every inch of Luke's exhausted form stretched out against the mattress. When she made to get up, he eyed her questioningly, prompting her to run one hand through his hair and whisper, "Stay here."

Too sapped of energy to do anything but comply, he listened to the sounds of her footsteps as she ventured to the bathroom, the noise soon followed by running water.

She emerged almost 10 minutes later, her coat and boots discarded. "Come here, big guy," she coaxed gently, tugging on one of his hands.

"Too tired," he mumbled, using the benefit of his heavy form to stay firmly in place.

"You'll like it, I promise."

"Come back here and lie with me," he cajoled.

"Later. Right now I need you to get up." At his scowl she added, "If you're lucky, I might get naked."

Those proved to be the magic words, and Luke stumbled to his feet.

"Men," she muttered, dragging him toward the bathroom. She guided him to sit on the bath ledge and set about unzipping his jacket and unfastening the buttons on his flannel.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Curing polio and fighting crime. I'm taking care of you. What do you think I'm doing?"

Once she'd successfully wrestled the flannel off of him, she instructed, "Arms up."

He obliged, allowing her to draw his t-shirt over his head.

"Jeans next. Come on," She commanded, pulling him to his feet. Her hands slipped to his belt buckle and she worked on pulling it through the loops.

"You're making me take a chick bath?" he groaned, eyeing the full bath.

"No, I'm making you take a very manly bath. You'll come out smelling of axle grease, chewing tobacco and getting all mouthy with locker room talk."

At his frown, she pressed a kiss against his bare shoulder and said, "You haven't got anything even remotely resembling bubble bath in this apartment, so trust me when I say you're not gonna walk out of here smelling like a girl."

Satisfied, Luke allowed her to rid him of his remaining clothing.

"You're not coming in?" he asked in a mixture of surprise and disappointment, settling down into the bath.

"Nope, sit back and relax mister."

"I was promised nudity," he grumbled with a furrowed brow, drawing a smile and an eye roll from her.

Crouching down beside the bath, she grabbed the shampoo bottle and rolled up her sleeves. He took hold of her wrist, effectively stilling her movements, and begged, "Please come in."

Taking in his sad eyes, she found herself unable to deny him anything.

"Geez, and you say Rory and I are the only ones that know how to work a pout."

She quickly shucked her clothes, tapping his shoulder lightly to urge him forward in the tub.

"What are you doing?" he asked, expecting she'd either sit across from him or in his arms.

"I told you already; taking care of my man," she shrugged, settling in behind him.

"But I'll crush you," he countered dubiously, eyeing her petite frame.

"For someone who's got a lot on his mind, you're awfully argumentative tonight," she said with a winged eyebrow, pulling him back against her chest. "Tonight, you're going to be little spoon, okay? No arguments."

When the forceful tug around his waist did little to scoot him backward where she wanted him, he conceded and shifted back a tad of his own accord, careful not to rest too much of his weight on her.

She wriggled around a bit, weaving her hands around his torso from behind and finally exclaiming, "There, perfect fit."

He had to admit it felt good being enveloped in her arms, and he reveled in the feel of her soft breasts pressed against his back.

"Good?" she asked.

"Amazing," he murmured with a sigh, one of his hands interlocking with hers on his stomach.

After a few minutes, Lorelai began to knead the taut muscles in his shoulders, Luke moaning at the sensation as her hands and the warm water worked wonders on his aching body.

Inching him forward a little, she reached for the discarded shampoo bottle, squeezing some into her palm and proceeding to massage it into his scalp. She was pleased to see some of the tension in his back and shoulders had dissolved, and she pressed a tender kiss to the crook of his neck.

Taking hold of a plastic cup she'd settled on the bath's edge, Lorelai filled it with water, whispering, "Close your eyes."

He complied, letting her tilt his head back and rinse the shampoo from his hair gently. She then repeated the process with the conditioner, smiling at his willingness to let her take care of him.

When she couldn't see any sign of shower gel in the bathroom and noted the bar of soap was out of reach, she settled her sights back on the shampoo bottle, figuring it would work just as well. Squeezing a little onto her hands, she worked it into a lather before sliding her hands around to his chest and rubbing softly. His head fell back against her shoulder, his muscles lax as he gave into the sensations created by her nimble fingers.

When she worked her way down to the trail of hair beneath his navel, he let out a carnal growl and rasped, "You're playing a dangerous game Lorelai."

Inching her hand lower to work his thighs, she whispered in his ear, "I don't know what you're talking about."

She hadn't intended for things to get heated given the somber nature of the day, but as was often the case with the couple, their innate chemistry overruled rational thought.

She smirked when his hips bucked involuntarily; the movement assuring her he was fully on board with any extracurricular activities.

"Touch me," he begged, his voice husky. "Please, Lorelai."

The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine, and she obliged, taking him firmly in her hand and stroking with steady pressure.

"Oh, God," he choked out, his control fast unraveling.

"Do you like that?" she whispered, letting her warm breath tickle his ear.

"Yes," he affirmed with a strangled moan, his cock filling even further at her touch.

"Do you like it when I take care of you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what I like?" she asked breathily, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"What?" he managed to hiss through gritted teeth.

"You. Inside me," she murmured boldly, prompting a jolt to pass through him as her tongue traced the shell of his ear.

He almost came then and there, but managed to resist, pulling her hand from him.

"Out. Now," he commanded, his eyes hooded.

She didn't need to be told twice, willingly following him out of the bath. The second her feet were planted on the tiled floor, his lips were on hers, devouring her as only he could.

She shivered as the cold air bit at her damp skin, but pulled him closer nonetheless, his leg resting between hers as she ground against him.

"Oh Jesus," he whispered, unabashed desire overtaking his entire body.

"Towel. Dry," she murmured senselessly, throwing her head back as his hand closed over one breast. He covered the other with his mouth, his tongue capturing the wayward water droplets and teasing her nipple.

"Luke," she whispered, holding his head to her and praying the exquisite torture would never end. He gave her other breast the same treatment before trailing his tongue between the valley of her breasts and up over her collar bone.

His fingers soon found her damp center and he stroked her folds lightly before gently easing one finger inside her. He moaned as she tightened around him, his cock swelling with awareness.

His tongue continued to trace patterns on her neck and he suckled deeply, too overcome to think about the mark it would leave.

"Luke, babe," she breathed, forcing herself to pull away.

He panted heavily, his eyes zeroing in on hers in an attempt to identify what was wrong.

"I'd rather not have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow if I can avoid it," she breathed, an impish grin forming on her lips.

"Right, sorry," he apologized, his head foggy with arousal.

"Towel," she said again, and this time he reached for one, wrapping it around her torso before grabbing a second for himself. She had barely started the drying process when his lips were upon hers again and he began walking her back into the bedroom. She tumbled onto the bed when the backs of her knees hit the mattress, Luke immediately covering her body with his own.

They kissed heatedly for a few minutes, Lorelai's hips arching up to meet his as they took their fill of one another. When they drew apart for much-needed oxygen, Lorelai pushed up against his chest and said, "Wait, let me up."

He eyed her curiously but obeyed, shifting his body off of hers.

"Lie down for me. On your back," she directed, her lips swollen from their kisses. He followed her instructions, his cock straining noticeably against the thin towel.

When she trailed one finger over the tented material, he choked out a guttural sound from the depths of his throat, unable to string together a full sentence. She unraveled the towel, using her thumb to collect the droplet of moisture that materialized on his tip. Tracing her fingers lightly across his abdomen, she offered him an affectionate smile before pressing tender kisses to his hard stomach.

When she lowered her lips to take him in her mouth, he said her name in warning, the deep timbre of his voice informing her he was already close to the brink.

"Sssh, it's okay," she soothed. "This is for you."

She ran her tongue the length of him, then took him in, sucking rhythmically. He fisted his hands in the sheets, letting out a few grunts of desperation. When he could take no more, he tugged at her shoulders forcefully, his breathing erratic.

"Need you," he begged hopelessly, his eyes imploring. Offering him an understanding nod, she dropped one last kiss to his tip and sat up, her knees resting on either side of his thighs. Luke reached up and pulled at the knot fastening her towel, his hands immediately seeking out her breasts as the towel fell to the bed.

"Lorelai," he breathed, squeezing and cupping and caressing softly.

"I'm here. I've got you," she murmured, dropping her head back as she gyrated against him.

Taking his shaft in hand, she ran her wet folds the length of him, before positioning him at her entrance. Rising to her knees, she eased herself onto him, both of them crying out as he filled her.

She began to move steadily, Luke's hands falling to her hips as he guided her rhythm and impaled her on him over and over. Her hair cascaded down her back as she rode him with abandon, giving herself over to him completely. Entranced by the gentle bounce of her breasts, Luke found his gaze glued to the soft peaks as she bobbed up and down atop him. She steadied herself against his chest, emitting whimpers of pleasure as they locked eyes, blue on blue.

Feeling his control begin to waver, Luke reached between them, massaging her clit in a desperate attempt to bring her closer to the edge. When he felt her tighten around him and saw her jaw go slack, he let go, coming inside her in hot spurts. They both rode out the waves of pleasure, their eyes fluttering closed and Lorelai collapsing against him.

They stayed wrapped in each other's embrace for a few minutes, Lorelai pressing a kiss to his sweaty brow as she clung tightly to him.

"You're right, spending this day with you is so much better than spending it alone," he growled, his breathing having finally returned to normal.

"Was this…okay?" she asked hesitantly, knowing they'd gotten a little carried away.

"Okay? It was perfect," he chuckled, and she was happy to hear the lightness in his tone.

"When I ran the bath, I didn't expect to…I mean, today of all days…I just wanted to do something nice for you."

"You did," he reassured her. "Thank you."

"I didn't mean to overstep," she said worriedly. "Today's about you and your dad and…"

He silenced her with a kiss. "Will you stop with the rambling already?"

She blushed, biting her lip and eyeing him in the darkened room.

"This is exactly what I needed. You are exactly what I needed," he stressed, tightening his hold on her and relishing in the feel of her hands stroking his hair tenderly. "All day I could hardly get a breath in. It's like…suddenly I can breathe again."

"And here I was thinking good make-up sex was meant to take your breath away," she muttered, a teasing glint in her eye.

He laughed, squeezing her side as he said, "Our first make-up sex. I hadn't thought about that."

"Our first fight. Well, sort of fight. I don't know if it officially counts…there wasn't exactly a screaming match."

"I won't tell if you won't."

"I've always been a big fan of mulligans," she informed him, trailing a finger down his chest leadingly.

"I think I could get behind that idea."

"Behind, huh? Dirty," she smirked, prompting him to groan.

"Does it mean we'd have to have another fight?" he pondered.

"No more fights," she stated firmly.

"No more fights," he agreed wholeheartedly. "No more being a jackass."

She buried her head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling her into a relaxed but not-quite-sleepy state. The absence of his light snores informed her he too remained awake.

She played with the sprinkling of hair there absently, pressing a kiss to his warm skin every so often to convey her affection.

"Tell me about your dad," she whispered into the darkness a long while later.

"Right now?" he asked, and while she couldn't see his face, she knew his eyebrow would be raised.

"Well I can put on clothes first if you really want, but I'm not sure it will make much difference," she giggled.

"Ah, geez," he sighed, tightening his hold on her. "What do you want to know?"

"The little things…what did he smell like? What books did he read? What were the things he always said? You told me a little bit about him before we started dating but I want to know more – if you're willing to tell me, that is."

"What did he smell like?"

"She shoved his side with her shoulder and defended, "Hey, it's a fair question. Every dad has their special brand of dad scent."

"They do?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah. Like my dad's is cigars mixed with this kind of woody scent – I think it's from the big mahogany desk in his office – and this fancy cologne my mom buys him. Sometimes there's a bit of scotch thrown in there too when he comes back from the club or has been entertaining guests."

"Huh," Luke mused, casting his mind back to the countless days spent by his father's side. "I guess it kind of varied. Like, he'd come home from work smelling of wood lacquer and turpentine. Someone would come into the hardware store and he'd pop out to help them fix whatever it was that needed fixing, or he'd do paint demonstrations and have to use the turps to get it off his hands. His arms were always splattered with some kind of paint."

Lorelai nodded, allowing him to go on.

"Sometimes, you'd get a whiff of gun powder if he'd been out with the damn reenactors. He used to wear some kind of cologne too…I don't know what it was, but half the time Mom's perfume ended up rubbing off on him."

"That sounds familiar," she teased, knowing she'd left a telltale trace of perfume or lipstick on Luke on more than one occasion.

"Yes, I've definitely seen that tree before," he grumbled, but there was no malice in his words.

"And what else? What did he like to read?" she pressed.

"He wasn't really much of a reader. I mean, other than the newspaper or the occasional fishing magazine. He read the paper every morning. You'd always find his head buried in the sports section, keeping up with the baseball scores."

"Chip off the old block," she murmured, smiling at him.

"Actually, he used to read to my mom," he added, and she could tell by his tone that it was a memory he'd previously forgotten.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, back when I was a kid, if I couldn't sleep I'd sometimes find them sitting out on the porch, drinking tea. He'd read her E.E. Cummings or Whitman, things like that."

"Poetry?" she clarified in surprise.

By all accounts, Luke and his father had been cut of the same cloth, so she struggled to reconcile the image of a macho Danes man reading the poetic greats. Then she was reminded of Luke reading Rory's collection of Brontes and Austens, and she couldn't help but smile. Male stereotypes be damned; the Danes men were predisposed to bend over backward for their loved ones.

"That sounds kind of nice," she murmured, rubbing her hand over his torso gently.

"Mmmhmm," he agreed contentedly, pressing an adoring kiss to her temple. "He was crazy about her. And vice versa."

"It sounds like they had a great marriage."

"Yeah, they were a good team. They were just so…connected, I guess. Like, one of them would walk into a room and the other would just know, even without seeing them, you know?"

"I know," Lorelai affirmed quietly. "I had a sneaking suspicion you were there at the recital tonight before I saw you at the end," she confessed. "You came in not long after it started, didn't you? It was around the third act."

His mouth went dry as he absorbed her words, nuzzling her ear as he whispered a soft, "Yes."

"And you do it too," she murmured knowingly.

"Yes."

"At the diner."

"Yes."

"How do you know it's me?"

"How did you know it was me earlier tonight?" he challenged. "It's just a feeling in here," he said, gesturing to his abdomen. "The bells on the door sound the same, and half the time I can't see you because I'm in the kitchen or my back's turned, but I always know it's you."

"God, that's sexy," Lorelai breathed, nipping at his heated flesh. She watched a shudder rip through him as her teeth sunk into him lightly. "Maybe we could fine-tune it and go global. Like, you fly to some exotic location around the world and I have to track you down, using only my sixth sense and womanly charms. It would make for great reality TV," she mused. "We'll call it 'bloodhounds'."

"More like 'nutjobs on the loose'," he deadpanned. "Has anyone ever told you you're crazy?"

"Oh, stop with the sweet talking already," she joshed in a high pitched, girlish voice, feigning rapture. "You're such a charmer I can hardly keep my clothes on."

"You're not wearing any clothes," he growled, a predatory glint in his eyes as his hand swept up to claim her exposed breast.

"Well, would you look at that? Apparently, your powers extend beyond the realms of Lorelai locational osmosis," she teased, cocking her eyebrow as he rolled on top of her and she hooked her leg around his back to hold him in place. "I thought you were exhausted."

"Super stamina," he winked, allowing his fingers to trail down to the apex between her thighs.

"Mmmm, you don't say?" she replied breathily.

"Uh huh," he answered seriously, leaning down to nibble on her lip sensually. "Want to find out what else I can do?"

-o-

I would sooooo love to hear your thoughts on this one. Your reviews are truly appreciated!