AN: Thanks for all of the wonderful support. Now that they might actually
be getting together on the show it seems a lot more pointless to write this
fanfiction, but I'm going to keep it up as long as there are readers. I'll
use some of the stuff from the real show, but most of it I'll come up with
on my own. As for the 'therapeutic sex' comment, you'll have to bear with
me a little longer. We're not there yet.
*** 'He seems so simple, could there be more?
Why didn't I see it before?
He looked at me and now I'm shaking.
What are these thoughts my mind's undertaking?'
Lorelai thought it sounded a little cheesy. She actually liked the one that didn't rhyme much better.
It was after midnight on Saturday. She and Rory had finally called it quits after a 6 hour movie-a-thon including Monty Python but not (to Rory's great dismay) the Power of Myth.
Now Lorelai was laying in bed (complete with brand-new sheets) and writing in her infamous notebook. She was trying to determine which 'strong feeling' she felt towards Luke. She'd finally admitted it to herself—she couldn't stop thinking about him. Ever since his chivalrous acts of Friday morning, he was all she thought about.
She wondered if one was ever too young for a childish crush.
Luke couldn't sleep. He couldn't get the line 'Take me as I am, this may mean you'll have to be a stronger man," out of his head.
He knew that Lorelai needed a stronger man. One strong enough to resist the temptation to screw the living daylights out of her every time he saw her. One strong enough to continue loving her through her many moods. He realized that he was that man, and he had been for nearly fifteen years.
Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled a pair of jeans on over his boxers, a flannel shirt on over his t-shirt, and put his hat on. He needed to go for a walk. Clear his mind. Restore meaning to his universe.
Lorelai had had enough. She seemed to remember reading poetry about nature, and thought that maybe that would be safer than poetry about Luke. It was the 'strong emotion' part that was throwing her. Maybe outside she could go make herself peaceful or joyous or some crap like that. Curse Rory for this whole mess anyways.
Luke sat on a park bench. He told himself he'd picked that one because of it's location, not because it was the one that he and Lorelai had sat on. The one where she had cried without reserve onto his shirt. The one where that day he had realize that he would give anything, do anything, or say anything only to spare her from any amount of pain.
Lorelai was *not* walking towards the Diner. She was *not* going to pass by their park bench. She was *not* thinking about him.
~Lorelai and I have known eachother for fifteen years. If something was supposed to happen between us it would've happened already. Great, now I'm hallucinating about her. I could swear I see her coming. ~
~Maybe I do love him. Like a brother. Like the protective big brother I should've had at 16. But if he is like a brother, why do I keep fanticizing about him kissing me? Oh, god, there he is. ~
She was standing right in front of him. He closed his eyes, trying to convince himself not to do anything stupid. But with his eyes closed he could still smell her. She was a feminine combination of laundry soap, hair spray, and perfume. All of his wonderful danger zone techniques were failing fast.
Why wouldn't he look at her? Was he crying? She sat next to him, not knowing what else to do.
Why the hell had he bought those stupid self-help tapes? They had only made him think of her more. Who was he kidding? Lorelai would never love him. She was from a completely different level that he was. She deserved better than a fashion-ignorant, burger-flipping loser like him. Why was she sitting next to him? She probably just needed some coffee.
What had brought her to this moment after all these years? It was Rory's fault. Emotions are dangerous, and dumb old Rory had some how conned her into spending way too much time thinking about them. Now she was too far gone to stop.
"Luke..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper... *** Aren't I evil! Muahahahaha. I leave them hanging on the edges of their seats. What will she say? Any suggestions?
*** 'He seems so simple, could there be more?
Why didn't I see it before?
He looked at me and now I'm shaking.
What are these thoughts my mind's undertaking?'
Lorelai thought it sounded a little cheesy. She actually liked the one that didn't rhyme much better.
It was after midnight on Saturday. She and Rory had finally called it quits after a 6 hour movie-a-thon including Monty Python but not (to Rory's great dismay) the Power of Myth.
Now Lorelai was laying in bed (complete with brand-new sheets) and writing in her infamous notebook. She was trying to determine which 'strong feeling' she felt towards Luke. She'd finally admitted it to herself—she couldn't stop thinking about him. Ever since his chivalrous acts of Friday morning, he was all she thought about.
She wondered if one was ever too young for a childish crush.
Luke couldn't sleep. He couldn't get the line 'Take me as I am, this may mean you'll have to be a stronger man," out of his head.
He knew that Lorelai needed a stronger man. One strong enough to resist the temptation to screw the living daylights out of her every time he saw her. One strong enough to continue loving her through her many moods. He realized that he was that man, and he had been for nearly fifteen years.
Suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled a pair of jeans on over his boxers, a flannel shirt on over his t-shirt, and put his hat on. He needed to go for a walk. Clear his mind. Restore meaning to his universe.
Lorelai had had enough. She seemed to remember reading poetry about nature, and thought that maybe that would be safer than poetry about Luke. It was the 'strong emotion' part that was throwing her. Maybe outside she could go make herself peaceful or joyous or some crap like that. Curse Rory for this whole mess anyways.
Luke sat on a park bench. He told himself he'd picked that one because of it's location, not because it was the one that he and Lorelai had sat on. The one where she had cried without reserve onto his shirt. The one where that day he had realize that he would give anything, do anything, or say anything only to spare her from any amount of pain.
Lorelai was *not* walking towards the Diner. She was *not* going to pass by their park bench. She was *not* thinking about him.
~Lorelai and I have known eachother for fifteen years. If something was supposed to happen between us it would've happened already. Great, now I'm hallucinating about her. I could swear I see her coming. ~
~Maybe I do love him. Like a brother. Like the protective big brother I should've had at 16. But if he is like a brother, why do I keep fanticizing about him kissing me? Oh, god, there he is. ~
She was standing right in front of him. He closed his eyes, trying to convince himself not to do anything stupid. But with his eyes closed he could still smell her. She was a feminine combination of laundry soap, hair spray, and perfume. All of his wonderful danger zone techniques were failing fast.
Why wouldn't he look at her? Was he crying? She sat next to him, not knowing what else to do.
Why the hell had he bought those stupid self-help tapes? They had only made him think of her more. Who was he kidding? Lorelai would never love him. She was from a completely different level that he was. She deserved better than a fashion-ignorant, burger-flipping loser like him. Why was she sitting next to him? She probably just needed some coffee.
What had brought her to this moment after all these years? It was Rory's fault. Emotions are dangerous, and dumb old Rory had some how conned her into spending way too much time thinking about them. Now she was too far gone to stop.
"Luke..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper... *** Aren't I evil! Muahahahaha. I leave them hanging on the edges of their seats. What will she say? Any suggestions?