*A/N THANK YOU to the people who have followed or favourited this series. And HUGE thanks for those of you who left a review. It feels good to be writing again. I'm really enjoying the process. I absolutely will not complain at having Luke and Lorelai clips on in the background while I'm writing. I'd just like to say that when I wrote this, I completely ignored the events of series 6 and 7- April and Anna and Christopher and their whole debacle do not exist - so Luke's declarations at the end of this chapter are as true as those glorious eyes of his.

Once again, thank you for taking the time to put up with my nonsense. Drop me a line, I look forward to getting to know fellow L&L 'shippers.*

"Go back to her."

"Hello, Luke."

His heart dropped. What was she doing here? Wasn't she aware of the damage she'd caused? Blood thumped at his temples and his jaw clenched – he couldn't turn and look for fear of the vitriol that was sure to burst forth from his mouth if he laid eyes on her. Trying to steady his breathing, he focused on inputting charges on his calculator and prayed that she couldn't see how his hand shook as he scrawled sums into his ledger.

"When you get a moment, I'd like to have a word with you."

More shaking. What could she possibly have to say? Wasn't his diner a little too rustic for her liking? Had she gotten lost on the way to fill Christopher's head with more instructions? Wasn't her behaviour at the vow renewal enough? Did she want to come and stick the knife in some more? Surely she had to be aware of the break up? Was this some kind of victory gloat? He heard her heels clack across the floor so he risked the barest of glances over his shoulder. She stood at the counter staring at him expectantly. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and she was in a coat he was sure had been alive at some stage.

"I'm busy right now," he growled. The sums were jumping all over the page as his mind swam with questions. He put his pencil down and walked over to the coffee pots and mindlessly began to scoop beans into the filter. Considering Kirk had been his only customer all day, he tried to ignore the wastefulness of his actions.

"That's fine. I'll just wait here until things….die down…" The disdain in her voice enraged him. The scrape of a stool indicated that she had taken a seat at the counter.

"You have a wide selection here," she continued, talking to Luke's back. "What is mud pie?"

Kirk took the lead and for once, Luke was grateful for his babbling. He slammed the carafe back onto the machine and went back to his sums, feeling the burn of Emily's stare scorch the back of his flannel shirt.

"Would you mind excusing us?"

Please don't go, Kirk, please don't leave. Be your obnoxious self and say that you haven't finished eating or that I won't let you off the premises without paying…Luke heard the bells of the diner door again and his heart dropped to his shoes as he realized he was alone with none other than Satan's mistress herself.

"My daughter and I aren't speaking. She won't take my calls, she won't come to dinner and she apparently wants nothing to do with me."

This made Luke halt and put his pencil down. It was true, everything Lorelai had told him in Doose's market was true. He never thought she would have the strength to block out this woman from her life. But she had done it.

"I'm sure you know that Lorelai and I have had many battles – most have them have been because I feel I know what's best for her, but Lorelai has her own ideas about what she thinks will make her happy."

And didn't he know it. Coffee, baked goods, fried meat and cheese, crappy eighties movies, fruity eighties bands…all were just some of the things that Lorelai Gilmore insisted she needed in her life because they brought her the utmost joy. He was sure his name would be on the list too. Or at least it would have been if this woman hadn't meddled.

"She wants you, Luke…" Her words rung out deep and true like a bell. "She's made her choice, God help her, but there it is. It doesn't matter if I agree with it, I can't fight it – you've won."

Our relationship was not a game. And even if it was, no one invited you to play. Luke raised his chin and drew up to his full height, inhaling deeply to steady his hammering heart. Was this really happening? Emily Gilmore was the proudest woman this side of North America: was she really admitting defeat? Was this her way of a blessing? He inwardly cursed himself at the latter thought. He and Lorelai had never needed anybody's blessing. He hated the fact that they were apart; he loathed himself for not being strong enough to withstand the pressure; he bolted because he was afraid that Lorelai would see exactly what her mother saw – that he wasn't good enough for her.

"Go back to her. I promise, I will stay out of it."

Everything clicked into place… Lorelai loved things that were bad for her…the coffee, the baked goods, the fried meat and cheese….him. She was all in. She'd told him so.

He glanced over his shoulder at Emily's retreating back before turning to fully face the door.

"You're going to have to clean that window."

As she turned round to him, their eyes locked for an instant and Luke saw the resignation in her gaze. This was a defeated woman. It really must have pained her to come here tonight, he groused. She really must love Lorelai to drive all the way to Star's Hollow, a place she neither understands nor appreciates, and swallow her pride and come and speak to me. For a moment he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

The door clicked shut and he exhaled the tense breath he'd been holding. He saw Kirk peel himself away from the window and edge towards the door. Luke crossed the diner in two strides and turned the lock before flipping the closed sign. "Food's on me tonight, Kirk." And before his brain could fully register his actions, his feet were taking him upstairs to retrieve his jacket.

The night is bitter, the stars have lost their glitter. The winds grow colder…suddenly, you're older…and all because of the man that got away.

Lorelai hugged her knees to her chest. I know all about that, Judy, babe. Man, she wished she wasn't alone; she'd been a martyr for Rory's sake. How could she admit to her daughter that she was terrified of being on her own? This is it now. This is my life. Just me. Rattling around this house. Maybe I'll get lucky: maybe the cats will come back and eat me.

A rapid knocking at the door disrupted her wallowing.

She heaved herself up from her pit on the couch and trudged towards the front door. Maybe it's the cats. Maybe they read my mind.

Her breath hitched in her chest when she saw him standing there. His eyes were wide as saucers and his jaw was squared in determination. She didn't have the opportunity to greet him because in one giant stride, he was in her foyer enveloping her in his arms and pressing his lips heatedly to hers.

Her body responded automatically. She wound one arm around his back and used the other to push the door shut. His tongue parted her lips eagerly and stroked along the length of hers, all the while hugging her tighter into the solid planes of his body.

"Luke," she gasped as one of his hands slid the elastic out of her hair so he could tangle her dark locks between his fingers. "What are you – "

"I'm letting my actions speak, Lorelai," he murmured against her lips, pulling her with him as he walked towards the stairs.

He shed his coat in the hallway. He discarded his gloves somewhere on the landing. By the time they'd got to Lorelai's bedroom, his shirt was already half-way undone. He reached for her again and circled his arms round her waist, desperately craving contact. Had it really only been a couple of weeks since he last held her like this? It felt like a lifetime.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder and let the scent of him fill her nostrils: fries, coffee, and that cheap cologne he buys from Doose's that's woody and leathery and oh so…masculine. So Luke. She felt his hands creep underneath her sweatshirt and his thumbs drew light circles at the base of her spine, making her shiver. Lorelai had told him numerous times over the last four months that his hands were one of his best features – they brought her coffee, held her tightly, made the food that kept her alive, repaired damage around the house, brought her to orgasm during foreplay….there was nothing his hands couldn't do. And as his fingers pressed tightly into the skin at her waist, she never wanted to be without their touch again.

"Undress me, Luke," she whispered.

He complied more than willingly. Those strong, reliable hands made light work of lifting up her sweatshirt and then pulling off her pants. Luke gazed reverently at her slender body, almost silver in the moonlight coming through her bedroom window; his eyes drank in the sight of her long legs, cinched waist, the soft mounds of her breasts, and her beautiful, fathomless pools for blue eyes. He saw the hurt and pain of the last two weeks linger in her gaze and he cursed himself all over again. But he had been hurting too, surely she had to know that?

"Never again," he whispered, more to the demons in his head than anything else, as he sank to his knees and pressed his lips to her abdomen. "We are never going to be apart ever again."

"Oh, Luke…" her response was cut short at the feeling of his teeth dragging her panties down over her hips. She had to grip his shoulders for support as he skimmed his lips lightly up one inner thigh and then down the other. She heard herself whimper as his nose ran along the length of her sex, followed by the delicate trace of his tongue. She opened her feet wider to reveal more of herself to him and he lapped up the opportunity. Literally. He flattened his tongue and dragged it from her entrance up towards to her clit, giving it a flick with the tip before repeating the action over and over again.

The first night they had made love he had made a promise to himself that he would worship at the altar of Lorelai Gilmore and since that night, he had always made good on that promise. He loved to fuck her, he loved having her ride him, but he also loved the way she cracked and shattered around his tongue and he swore that no dessert was sweeter than the pussy of Lorelai Gilmore. Any flash of her flesh was enough to turn him on, one press of her lips to his and blood rushed to his crotch, but knowing that his lips, his tongue, his fingers could send her up to the heavens, well, that was the most powerful aphrodisiac.

He moved his tongue to solely pay attention to her clit and pressed two fingers into her heat. Her hands had knocked the cap off his head and her fingers were now curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing him closer to her sensitive flesh. He heard her curse and call out his name as he sucked on her precious bud. She was close. Her felt her tighten around his fingers as they relentlessly stroked the tangle of nerves on her inner walls. He hummed against her knowing the vibration, along with the sensation of his lips and the thrust of his fingers would finish her. He felt his cock strain against his jeans as he raised his eyes and saw her throw her head back to moan loudly at the ceiling as her orgasm burst.

He sat back on his heels and waited patiently for her to open her eyes and look down at him. When she did, he flashed a devilish grin and licked them of the juices that slicked his fingers.

"Dirty man," she breathed as she succumbed to her jelly limbs and dropped to her knees, allowing her body to fall into his waiting arms. "And you're wearing far too many clothes."

She quickly got to work removing his flannel shirt and the tight, grey cotton tee he always wore under it. Another of her favourite parts of Luke's anatomy was his torso. If ever there was a reason for her to believe in past lives, Luke's torso was it. She was sure that Michel Angelo himself had used Luke as inspiration for his David sculpture. His back was nothing less than carved marble; she relished the way his muscles flexed and stretched under her touch. His abdomen was enough to make even the most rigid of washboards jealous. She pushed him so he fell back onto the floor and pressed hungry kisses down the plane of his chest, down his abs and then stopped to linger just above the waistband of his jeans. She eyed his obvious arousal as she knelt between his knees and ran her hands over his granite thighs.

"Fuck, Lorelai," he growled as she declined to open his fly and instead cupped him eagerly through the denim, peppering kisses along his stomach.

"Easy, tiger," she hummed against his skin, "I'm memorizing your every contour." She squeezed his crotch teasingly, thrilled at the guttural sound that ripped from his throat.

His hips gyrated desperately, longing for more friction. Seeing him so hungry, so ready, made her take pity on him and she released the buttons of his fly with nimble fingers. He lifted his hips so she could pull his jeans down to release his magnificent cock.

She would be lying if she said this part of Luke wasn't also in her top five favourite things about him. It was as thick as it was long, and the feel of him fully sheathed inside of her completed her like no other cock had ever done before. Up until Luke, screaming orgasms were only either naughty cocktails she and Sookie ordered on girls' nights, or on the porn she watched late, late at night, under the covers, as she got herself off. Luke could fuck. And Luke could make love. But the outcome was always the same: Lorelai saw stars behind her eyes and spoke in tongues as he brought her wave after wave of pleasure.

But she knew she wasn't just the passive counterpart in all of this. She also knew how to drive him wild. Seeing him sprawled on her bedroom floor, completely at her mercy, made her arousal awaken once more. Slowly, carefully, expertly, she poised herself above the tip of his cock, splaying her hands across his abs to help her balance. She saw his nostrils flare and his teeth graze his bottom lip as she lowered herself inch by infinitesimal inch down the length of his throbbing member. She tantalizingly circled her hips and drew a throaty growl from him, his hands reached to cup her breasts and tweak her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. She used the strength in her hamstrings to draw her hips up and forwards till he was only just at her entrance, before sinking back down and impaling herself on him again.

She was just about to repeat the motion when Luke's hands moved to cradle her back and he sat up. He held her tightly to allow her to shift her weight so she could wrap her legs around his waist. The change in angle was delicious. It didn't sound sexy to say that she was sure as hell that Luke was thrusting all the way up to her diaphragm, but damn, it felt fucking great. His strong arms lifted and lowered her with ease, and her clit rubbed against him at just the right angle.

In no time at all, she was on the edge of that precipice again and ready to leap into the abyss, where all she knew was Luke and the way he smelled, and the way he tasted and the way he completed her.

She felt his tongue trace up her windpipe and his teeth nipped at one of her earlobes. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She was closer.

His lips fluttered back down the side of her neck and came to rest at the hollow of her clavicle.

"I love you, Lorelai."

Her breath hitched. He felt it under his lips. That was it. She was gone. He lifted his head to look at her. He loved to watch her come undone. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her soft lips formed a pink O as she gasped and panted and purred with joy. He cursed loudly as his release soon followed; her joy never failed to bring him to his peak.

She was shaking when she collapsed against his shoulder. His arms wrapped even tighter around her, their bodies entwined as wild vines about a tree. He was the roots, grounding her, steadying her, and she was the life that reached upwards drinking in the light for both of them. One couldn't be without the other.

"Did you mean that?" she whispered, the vulnerability evident in her shy tone. She looked at him and cradled his face in between both her hands.

He didn't blame her for questioning his declaration. It was the first time he'd said it out loud to her. When he arrived at her house that evening he'd said he'd wanted his actions to do the speaking for him. But those particular words needed saying. She needed words. She craved them. She was them. And in that moment, he knew he needed to give them to give them to her.

"I love you, Lorelai," he said again. Firm. Clear. Resolute. "I have loved you for eight years. I am all in."

Relief coursed through her as intense as her orgasms. She couldn't stop the sobs that rolled up from the pit of her stomach and heaved out of her chest. Again, she buried her face into his shoulder and let the misery and darkness of the last couple of weeks flow out and away from her. Luke soothingly stroked her hair and pressed kisses to her temple.

"Hey, come on now," he hushed. "Are my feelings for you really that terrible?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say that. I just - " She cut herself off and reluctantly extricated herself from him and got to her feet, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand and holding the other out to him to help him up. He moved to embrace her again once they were standing, but she pulled back the covers of her bed and gestured for him to get in.

When they were both horizontal under the covers, she wasted no time in entangling her legs with his and snaking one arm under the pillow at his head, while the other draped across his chest.

"Finish what you were saying," he said gently, weaving his fingers through hers and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

She took a deep breath. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought you were out. I thought I'd ruined the second best thing that's ever happened to me – the first being Rory –"

He chuckled softly, "of course."

"These last two weeks have been awful. I was terrified. I missed you but I couldn't tell you. I thought you hated me." Her voice cracked again.

"Lorelai," he shifted his weight so he was leant up on one elbow looking down at her. He pushed her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers. "I could never hate you. I'm the one who should be sorry. I was the one who bolted at the first sign of trouble and you didn't deserve that. I was a coward. You needed me and I let you down. I get inside my own head sometimes. Blame it on years of being the mountain man - as you so like to call me!"

This remark elicited a grin and he bent to kiss the corner of her mouth, mirroring her smile.

"You know I've never been a very good communicator, but I make the promise here, tonight, that I will never let you second guess my feelings for you ever again."

The pad of his thumb traced softly across her lips and then he brought his mouth to hers to seal the words.

"I love you too," she whispered when he pulled away. She enjoyed the way his eyes glittered with delight. It wasn't very often Luke cracked a full-on smile: surly Luke was handsome, aroused Luke was delicious, but happy Luke, truly happy Luke, like he was in this moment – he was beautiful. And he was hers. And that was all that mattered.

They were in, all in, together.