A/N: I found this fanfic of mine on the wayback machine from an old Gilmore Girls fanfiction archive called Black, White, and Read ( ). It didn't have a date on it, and it is slightly AU, so I'd guess I wrote this sometime around 2001-2002.
Takes place during 1x14 That Damn Donna Reed, when Luke showed Lorelai the place behind the counter where his father had taken an order one time.
She is all bright colors and raven hair and bounce and glitter; words he never would have used to describe anything before he met her.
For many years, Luke had been one of those people who didn't take notice of things like what shade of blue the sky was on any particular day, or how much greener the grass is a few weeks after the snow melts, or even of the color of the walls of his own diner. But once Lorelai had come tearing into his world, he'd not only noticed the color of her bright, clear eyes, which changed their shade slightly depending on the color she was wearing, but also the way she lives- like everything is fascinating and big and amazing. And once in a while it would rub off on him, and all of a sudden he'd find that after being with her for a little while when she came in for coffee in the mornings, when she left, he'd find himself fascinated by the color of the tulips outside near the gazebo, or he'd think that the inside of his diner did seem a little dull. But maybe it just seemed that way because he'd been in the presence of someone so radiant moments earlier.
So when she'd suggested repainting his diner, he resisted at first, partly to cover the fact that he'd like the place to look a little brighter when she wasn't around, and partly because he'd just wanted to see what she'd do to try to convince him.
Offering to help him had been a proposal he couldn't refuse, though, and so he'd agreed.
And now she's sitting so close to him on the floor, with her hand on his arm, her touch so light and tentative. He feels his heart quicken.
She looks into his eyes and all he can do now is wonder how soft her lips are and how he can experience her colorful world up close and intimate.
He's so caught up in her that he doesn't even feel the pain caused by his kneecaps grinding into the floor as he kneels in their little hideout where secrets had just been shared between them.
Her scent is making him feel drunk; lightheaded and euphoric, as if he could float to anywhere in the world that he wants. But he doesn't want to be anywhere other than where he is now, with Lorelai Gilmore looking shyly into his face, seemingly contemplating how close their proximity is, and wavering back and forth like she's deciding whether or not she should just jump in.
When he sees her smile timidly and hears the quiet, half-laughing sound she makes when something exciting is about to happen, he leans in, and just touches his lips to hers, hearing her sharp intake of breath through her nose, a small gasp. In response, he reaches up and softly brushes his fingertips along her jawbone.
Behind his eyelids, he does begin to experience the color and radiance of her world. Blue splotches with each movement of her lips, green splashes with each responsive noise she makes, yellow dots corresponding to each different touch of their body parts; noses, fingers, arms...
He doesn't know how he is balancing now, on one hand, holding a beer bottle against the floor, turning half his body towards her while his other hand still lingers on her face.
As they sink further into the kiss, he feels like he is sinking further into the floor, and before he knows it, they've shifted so that he's sitting down with his back against the shelves of the counter and Lorelai straddling his legs, reaching for his face as she intensifies the kiss. She lets out a little noise that's halfway between a moan and a whimper as he wraps both arms around her, forearms angled up her back, caressing the back of her neck with his fingers. All colors are mixing together behind his eyes now, like an impressionist painting.
They've never even had a close call before- never a moment where time stood still and they'd shared an intense moment where they thought they'd become more to each other than they already are. This is a surprise, a thrill, and he feels invigorated and peaceful all at the same time. The affection between them is tangible, a product of the years, of helping each other, of caring for each other, of always lending a listening ear and giving encouragement. So, when their mouths had finally met in passion for the first time, he'd been stunned at the familiarity and true comfort and warmth behind it all.
He finds himself separated slightly from her mouth, his forehead resting against hers, his arms wrapped around her in a way that his hands now cradle her head, fingers woven through her hair. The blue splotches are gone for now, but he still sees the yellow dots all over the place, even with his eyes open.
He knows she feels overwhelmed, but she isn't running. She just rests with her forehead against his, and their lips almost brushing, her eyes glancing into his every few seconds before darting away again as she takes in what they've just done.
He moves his hands now around her waist, securing her against him, securing this moment, making sure it doesn't run away from him, and in a short time, she begins to speak, sounding dreamy, as if she'd just woken up.
"So..." she murmurs with her lips brushing against his so slightly, and the blue splotches are back.
"So," he swallows, waiting for what she has to say, still feeling like the room is spinning.
"So, I'll, um, see you tomorrow when I bring over the paint," she whispers, sounding unsure, glancing into his eyes again.
"Okay."
"Okay."
She doesn't move.
"Okay," he whispers, moving his mouth a fraction of an inch toward hers, then pressing his lips to hers again. The blue color swirls back into view behind his closed eyes once more. And there they begin again, still unable to get enough of each other in their own little world behind the counter.