AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed; I appreciate every one of your comments. This story is taking a leap from the hypothetical to the actual, so here we go…
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Someone sent a wedding invitation one time – someone in town, they'd long since forgotten who – with a picture of two toddlers holding hands and across the bottom, it read: Today, I marry my friend. She and Rory found it infinitely mock-worthy – nearly Precious Moments level – and so they posted it on the refrigerator and left it up long after the wedding, remembering to laugh at it at suitable intervals.
"And who wants a toddler on a wedding invitation, anyway? They abolished child marriage at least ten years ago, even in Connecticut."
"Macauley Culkin?"
"That's all you could come up with?"
"First thing that came to mind. Or I could pull out a really tired Michael Jackson joke."
"No, please don't."
She doesn't remember how long it was up, or what eventually made her take it down.
She does remember that sometimes, usually late at night, when the house was quiet, she saw the card on the fridge and didn't want to mock it at all. Well, much. But the idea was kind of nice. Marrying your friend. It wasn't deeply passionate or wildly romantic or any of those other things; it was genuine and substantial and real. The sort of thing that lasts, like stone walls and steel bridges and wide, unpaved roads. The kinds of things that blend right into the landscape, but are there years later, waiting to be discovered, just where you left them.
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He would have expected The Day Lorelai Finally Got a Clue to be shattering or earth-shaking, complete with sky-writers and waving banners and, possibly, some sort of comet. It usually took something on this level to get through to her.
As it turned out, it wasn't like that at all. It was like any other day.
Stars Hollow was holding another festival (again, like any other day), and he was steadfastly ignoring it, closing up early when everyone left to gather in the square. He'd taken advantage of the long evening to clean and polish and catch up, and had just finished taking inventory when the bells over the front door tinkled.
Lorelai, high on sugar, caffeine, grease, and probably every food additive known to man, had just stumbled through his door in her post-festival haze, blatantly ignoring the 'closed' sign.
"I am never eating again."
"And you came into a diner to make this announcement?"
She grinned as she settled onto a stool. "I didn't say I was never drinking again."
"I don't suppose the 'closed' sign—"
"Not a thing. Give me two cups of your very best." She smacked the counter for emphasis. He turned to the coffee machine, which, tellingly, was still turned on. Lorelai slumped over the counter and made a small strangled sound. "I tried to sample one of everything – it is the polite thing to do – except for the cotton candy and double-scoop sundaes and frito pie and," she lifted her head and counted off on her fingers, "the cheese dogs, which were all so good I really needed two. So now I feel like Alfred Molina at the end of Chocolat." She straightened up as he set down the coffee cup. "You don't have any chocolate, do you?"
He shook his head as he finished pouring the coffee. "You do realize what this is doing to your arteries?"
She stretched one bare arm across the counter and prodded the light blue veins on the underside of her elbow. "Looks good to me."
"I'm sure that's scientific."
"I'm a woman of many talents." She gave an exaggerated sigh and gazed at her mug. "Ahhhhh. What would I do without you?"
"Enter rehab?" That earned him an eyebrow. She gulped down the rest of the cup; he didn't even ask before pouring her a refill.
"Rory didn't come down?"
She sighed lightly and shook her head. "Finals are next week. I'll be lucky to hear from her at all. I made her promise to leave the library once a day, even if it's just to stalk the upperclassmen with the good notes."
Then, without any warning, Lorelai plunked down her cup and switched into Serious Lorelai mode.
"I actually didn't come in here for the coffee."
"Now that, I'm finding a little hard to believe."
"Ok, I didn't come in here only for the coffee. I have to ask you something." She dropped her eyes to the counter and pursed her lips, her fingers tracing odd patterns across the surface. Long, silent seconds passed before she looked back up at him. "Are you busy this weekend?"
Where is she going with this? "No."
She opened her mouth slightly, then shut it again, staring past him to some spot on the wall. She drew in a breath and looked up at him. "Rory's moving out of the dorm Saturday and I was wondering if I could borrow your truck."
He refused to acknowledge the breath he let out, a soft whoosh of air, or the strange feeling in his stomach, like something uncoiling. When he spoke, his words came out more harshly than he intended.
"Are you going to have it back by the time I need it back?"
She gave him a slight smile. "I promise to have it back as soon as I'm done with it."
He shook his head. "Fine. But we are going to discuss timing." He reached across the counter and tapped her bare wrist. "I'm going to introduce you to something called a watch."
She nodded absently. She was back to staring at the wall again. When he moved his hand away from hers, she reached out and caught his fingertips. "Luke," she met his eyes, with an expression he wasn't sure how to read. "There was something else. Do you think—" her eyes crept back to the wall. "On Friday…" she pursed her lips. "We could, if you wanted…" she looked back at him, almost expectantly, as if he was somehow supposed to transform this into an actual sentence. She was still gripping his fingertips, too hard, and his chest was tight again. She looked at him for a long moment, waiting for him to respond when he didn't have the first clue what to respond to¸ or what he was supposed to do in this situation. He sure as hell wasn't going to assume…he just wasn't going to assume.
After a moment, she let out a long breath and released his fingers. "I'll call you about the truck. I'd better get home."
She was off the stool and across the room before he could think of a thing to say. It was only after the door chimes died away that he glanced down.
She hadn't even finished her coffee.
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