Transitions and Expositions

Lorelai heard Luke before she saw him that morning as she approached the diner.

"For the last time, Taylor, no, you cannot hang any signs inside, outside, or anywhere near the diner!" Luke bellowed. "It's right next door, for God's sake! Hang them in your own damned store!"

"It is a shoppe, Luke, and it would double the exposure—"

"I heard you the first thirty times you said that, and I'm gonna say the same thing I said thirty times before: no, Taylor, absolutely not. This is my diner," he said, pointing to the floor, "and that is your store," pointing to the ice cream parlor next door, "and you can do your own damned advertising on your own property!" Luke waved the coffee pot menacingly. "Don't! Don't say another word, Taylor. It's always gonna be no."

Taylor drew himself up to his full height and assumed a dignified air. "Will you at the very least allow me to post a sign reminding people about the town meeting tomorrow evening?"

"Why do you have to put a sign up for that? Everyone knows there's a town meeting tomorrow."

"Yes, but tomorrow we have a special guest speaker, and I want to ensure that everyone—"

Luke held up his hand. "A paper sign, eight and a half by eleven, printed, black and white, in the front window. That's all you get." Taylor's eyes widened in delight. "For the meeting only, Taylor. And this is a one time thing, so don't go getting any ideas," he said.

Lorelai had watched the entire exchange from where she sat, perched at the counter. "That was very giving of you," she said, grinning.

Luke rolled his eyes and came to stand beside her. "Yeah, well. I'm in a giving mood," he said, pouring her a generous cupful.

She couldn't help smirking. "I remember." She sipped her coffee and shivered in happy surprise. "This is quite excellent today," she said.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, crossing to the other side of the counter.

"Yes, everything seems to be a little bit better today: the coffee tastes better, the air smells better, my skin is just glowing, my hair has this just wonderful bounce, I swear, there were even little bunnies lining Main Street today, playing flutes and dancing jigs," she said. "It's just the loveliest day. I could even break into song."

"Don't, I beg you," Luke drawled.

"I don't know what it is," Lorelai continued. "It must be just that I got such wonderful sleep last night." She took another sip of her coffee and studied him over the rim of the cup: his face was set in an expression of irritation, embarrassment, amusement, and satisfaction combined.

He cleared his throat. "What'll you have?"

"Muffin and a coffee to go," she said.

"Listen," he said, as he prepared her order, "about that thing for Rory? I couldn't get the drawings done yet. I was a little late this morning."

"Oh? Why is that?" she asked.

"I overslept," he said dryly, pushing the coffee and the bag containing her muffin toward her. "I'll get it to you later."

"Sure thing, Big Daddy," she said, sliding off the stool.

"Aw, geez, what did we say about that?"

Kirk looked up from his oatmeal. "Luke, I didn't know you had a nickname."

Luke glared at Lorelai as he answered. "I don't, Kirk."

"I thought that you and I had a closeness, Luke, that we would know these things about each other. You have, after all, seen me naked," he said.

"A fact I would really like to forget, Kirk, but I can't if you keep bringing it up," Luke said.

"Whatever you say, Big Daddy," Kirk replied.

"See what you've done?" Luke said. Lorelai gave him her best winning smile and backed towards the door.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said. "Big Daddy."

She was about to turn to go when he stopped her. "Lorelai," he called, jogging to her from behind the counter, "that thing you mentioned before."

"I remember," she said.

"Good. So if it happens again—"

"Again, I remember," she said. Lorelai peeked over her shoulder at Kirk, who was watching them with undisguised interest as he shoveled spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth. "Actually, I have something about that I need to ask you. Can I speak with you in private a moment?" She turned to Kirk. "It's inn business, in case you're taking notes," she said.

The oatmeal was suddenly the most fascinating thing Kirk had ever seen. Luke followed Lorelai to the pantry out back and crossed his arms over his chest, tipped his head back, and looked at her, waiting.

"There's more, huh?" he asked. "What, did he show up this time?"

Lorelai shook her head and put her breakfast on the table beside them. She took his face in her hands and lightly kissed him. "I love you for worrying," she said. "But it's so not a big deal. So he'll harass me for a few days, get tired of it, and give up. It's nothing. It's annoying, yes, but nothing."

"It's deserving of a restraining order," Luke said darkly.

"Oh, please, like Digger Stiles is capable of stalking—Jennifer Love Hewitt probably couldn't get a restraining order against him for this sort of thing. But," she conceded, "I promise I'll call you if anything happens. Anything," she added, off his look.

"That's all I ask," Luke said, taking her in his arms and embracing her tightly. After a moment, he released her, handed her the coffee and muffin, and turned her in the direction of the door. "Now go to work," he said, smacking her lightly on the rear as she went.

"Sassy!" she hissed, laughing, tripping lightly back to the diner and out the door.

Lorelai sipped her coffee as she walked, swinging the take out bag against her leg. She found she couldn't stop smiling and felt like the cover story of a cheap women's magazine: "Love and Sex!! 10 Easy Steps to a Better, Brighter You!!!" She cringed at the thought, but wondered what outfit would be best suited to such a cover. She remembered the pink, magnetic journal still shoved in the drawer of her bedside table.

Mentally, she turned the page.

Dear Rory,

Clearly, I'm crap for writing—I don't know how I thought I'd have the patience, and I really don't think it's snobbery this time. It's just a total inability to sit down with pen and paper and write it down. I sit down to do it and there are ten other things waiting to be done instead. On the upside, at least I'm thinking about what I'd write down if I took the time to write it down.

I'm going to be cheesy—apparently I can't stop being cheesy when it comes to this man—I don't know how I got along without him this way for as long as I did. I don't know why I didn't throw myself at him bodily the minute I thought I could feel something for him that wasn't quite friendly. God, when was that? Four years ago? Before?

He's right, though—and he's totally never going to hear it from me because, hello, that is not a pattern I wish to establish this early on—we probably weren't ready for each other. Maybe I needed to have that whole debacle with your dad happen, with Sherri and the baby, and maybe he needed to marry Nicole. Maybe life does have to kick you in the ass so hard you've toes in your eye sockets before you can really see or appreciate what you need. And, babe, he's it. Not just because he fixes things, though it's a bonus, or because he's always there for me at the right times, though, again, doesn't hurt, but because… I don't know, because he's who he is and I'm who I am and I simply can't fathom an existence that doesn't have him in it. Because I've always been afraid, I guess, too proud or too stubborn or too completely set in my ways to need someone or to want to need someone. Or to think that needing someone isn't weak.

I told him before you left that you had turned into some sort of pod-Rory, you were so shell-shocked from the Dean fall-out. And here I am, pod-Lorelai, Stepfordian love-struck duck. The cool kids are totally gonna kick me out of their lunch table and I'm going to have to eat with the cheerleaders and let them braid my hair, while we giggle and show pictures of our guys and blush whenever anyone says a boy's name and call kissing "MO-ing."

Say hi to the cool kids for me. Tell them the cheerleaders don't suck too much when you're wasted enough.

Love, Mom.

Sookie wasn't anywhere to be found when Lorelai reached the Inn, so she seated herself in the kitchen and opened the bag Luke had given her. Immediately, she whipped out her cell.

"Luke's."

"What the hell is this?"

"Lorelai?"

"Luke, I asked for a muffin. This—this—thing is not a muffin!"

He sighed. "It's a muffin. It's got a top and a bottom—I assure you, that's a muffin."

"It's a bran muffin, and that doesn't count," she said. "And what are those little things in the bag?"

"Grapes," he said.

"I know what grapes are, I'm talking about the drugs. I thought you were all, you know, unnatural substances are bad," she said huskily, in her best Luke voice.

"They're not drugs, they're vitamins."

"What am I supposed to do with vitamins?"

"You take them. And then you eat the grapes and the muffin," Luke said.

"But it's a bran muffin!" she whined.

"It's got chocolate chips in it," he said.

"You made me a chocolate chip bran muffin?" she asked, smiling.

"Just eat it," he said, "and don't pick out the chocolate chips and just eat those, either."

"I'll eat it, but that doesn't mean I'll enjoy it. Just tell me why?"

"Because, as I have told you repeatedly in the past, eating crap all the time will kill you. And that, quite frankly, would be upsetting."

"That's very sweet of you to say," she teased. "I'll try."

She was picking at the muffin, eyeing it suspiciously when Sookie entered, talking to three of her kitchen staff, giving orders and waving her hands. Lorelai greeted her with a "Hey, Sook," and pinched off a piece of muffin.

"Oh, hey, honey," Sookie said, and looking at her friend, stopped so suddenly two of the assistants following her nearly fell over each other. "Out!" Sookie cried. "Everyone out! Out! Out! Out!" She herded them to the back door. "Out of my kitchen! Take ten!"

Lorelai stood. "Hey, what's all this? Sookie, breakfast starts in, like, forty minutes."

Sookie laid a finger over her lips and shut the back door behind the bewildered and departing kitchen staff before crossing the room and shutting the door that fronted the rest of the inn. She turned to Lorelai, pointing at her friend. "You had sex!" she said, her voice shrill. "You've been holding out on me!"

Lorelai's mouth fell open. "I have not!"

"You have too! You had sex! You had sex with Luke and you didn't tell me!"

"It just happened," Lorelai said. "And how do you know?"

"Please, I can totally tell." Sookie rounded the counter and stood next to Lorelai, who seated herself again. "And? How was it? I bet it was fabulous. Was it fabulous?"

"Okay, Sookie, I've got to say, you're a little too interested. You and Jackson going through a dry spell?"

"This is not about me," Sookie said, her hands on her hips, "this is about you and all the sex with Luke. And no, Jackson and I are not going through a dry spell. I'm just dying of curiosity." She leaned in. "Does he wear the hat in bed?"

Lorelai laughed. "No, in fact, he doesn't." She popped a piece of the muffin in her mouth and pulled a face, trying to decide whether this was natural or completely unnatural curiosity.

"Lorelai, what are you eating?"

"It's a chocolate chip bran muffin."

"Oh, that is just wrong. Let me make you an omelet. That'd be better for you that than brick," she said. "So, tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Take it down a notch, sister," Lorelai said. "You're weirding me out here."

Sookie stopped and leaned against the counter. "You know what it is? I've known Luke for years, right? But I sort of think of him the way you think about teachers when you're in grade school: they don't exist outside the school, so if you see them outside school in the normal world, it's very weird. He's Luke. Totally asexual, like a Ken doll. You strip him down and there's just plastic tighty whities," she said.

"Luke wears boxers," Lorelai said. "Wears them quite nicely, too."

Sookie pointed again. "See? Totally fascinating." She began to assemble ingredients for an omelet. "So? Tell me!"

Lorelai sighed. "It was—it was perfect. Amazing."

"Oh, sweetie, that's so great," Sookie sighed. "Go on."

"In the words of former pop sensation and current fashion mistake Paula Abdul, it was phuh-nomenal," Lorelai said. "I mean, it was so intense."

"What was?"

She grinned. "Everything."

Sookie held up her hands. "Thank you, and I'm done. That's all I need."

Lorelai tossed the muffin into the trash. "I don't know—I've been with men I've had feelings for before, but this was completely different. Like every single second of it mattered. You know?"

Her friend nodded sagely. "I know," she said. "That's how it is."

The two of them sighed together, their eyes focused on points in the distance. They were silent a moment. Sookie began to giggle.

"What?"

She bent over double, tittering with laughter. "I'm sorry. I just had a mental picture of Luke wearing boxers over his pants," she gasped.

Lorelai laughed. "I should go check in with Michel, see what's going on," she said.

"Wait, wait," Sookie said. "Intense, amazing, phuh-nomenal—"

"All of the above," she said. "And then some."

"Oh?" Sookie asked, grinning.

Lorelai hooked her thumb into the waist band of her skirt and lowered it, exposing the top of her hip. Sookie leaned forward. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Stubble burn. Add frisky to the list," she said.

Sookie stepped towards the stove. "Okay, now that was too much information," she said.

Lorelai rolled her eyes as she left the kitchen. "Now she tells me," she said. "I'll be right back."

Michel stood behind the desk, flipping through the pages of the reservation book. "Ah," he said, when Lorelai approached. "So we are done having secret meetings in the kitchen without me?"

"Oh, Michel, were you feeling left out?"

"No, actually, I was quite relieved," he said.

"So," Lorelai said, ignoring this, "how are we doing?"

"I have everything covered quite nicely," he said. "We have three more reservations for next week, and so now we are completely booked."

"I love hearing those words. Say it again."

"No."

"Oh, please Michel?"

"No." He turned the page. "We have openings beyond that, but it looks promising for the summer." He looked up. "You are standing too close to me," he said.

Lorelai rolled her eyes and made for the kitchen again. "Any calls?"

"A Jason called. Again," Michel said. "His voice is particularly irritating."

"I really have to agree. If he calls again, tell him I'm out for the day. But let me know anyway," she said. "And if my dad calls—"

"One moment, I must write this down," Michel said, standing completely still. "I would not want to forget any of these most important details."

"No calls from Jason," Lorelai said flatly.

"Perhaps I should stop taking calls altogether," he began.

Lorelai waved her hand at him as she walked away. "Thank you, Michel," she said. She flipped open her cell and speed dialed Luke, who grumbled. "Maybe I should just talk to him," she began.

"Don't give him any ideas," Luke said.

She sighed. "I guess," she said doubtfully. "All right, I have to go and do the whole work thing. I'll see you tonight," she said.

"I'll be here."

"Okay. Love you," she said.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. You, too," he said.

She giggled. "Oh, baby, you talk so sweet."

"I'm hanging up now," he said.

At the end of the day, Lorelai sat with Sookie on the back stairs of the porch, her shoes in one hand as she massaged the soles of her feet with the other. Dusk was falling, and as she looked at the expanse of the garden behind the building and listened to the clink of silverware coming from the dining room as dessert wound to a close, she sighed in contentment.

"I've never been so happy to be this tired after a day of work," she said. "Man, those people ran me ragged today." She looked at Sookie. "Is it me, or are there a lot of old people staying here right now?"

Sookie shook her head. "A lot of old people."

"Huh." They were silent. "We're not strictly an old people kind of place, right? I mean, our clientele won't always consist of septuagenarians named Winky Bedermeir, will it?"

"Maybe there's a reunion going on somewhere?"

"Wouldn't we have heard about that?" Lorelai asked.

Michel rounded the corner of the house. "I despise the elderly," he drawled. "I have answered too many questions today. My quota is filled for the next three weeks."

"Weird," Lorelai said. She rose. "I'm going to go grab some dinner. I'll see you both tomorrow?"

"And where else would I be?" Michel asked, just as Sookie said, "sure, sweetie. Get some rest."

The diner was not very full, but Lorelai sat at the counter anyway, resting her chin in her hands. Luke was absent. She was beginning to feel a twinge of impatient boredom when Lane emerged from the kitchen.

"Hi, Lorelai. Sorry to keep you waiting. Caesar blew up a bunch of baked potatoes in the oven," she said. "What can I get you?"

"I think I'm just going to have cheese fries."

"Got it," she said. "I'll tell Luke. He's back there dealing with the blasted remains." She turned to go, but stopped. "Hey, have you heard from Rory at all?"

Lorelai shook her head slightly. "Just a few phone messages. 'Hi, we're in Paris, it's great, call you in a few days.' 'Hi, we're in Rome, it's great, call you in a few days.' I feel like I'm playing 'Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego' with my voice mail. She calls at the weirdest times and I'm always missing her," she said wistfully.

"If do you talk to her—"

"I'll send her your love," Lorelai said.

"Thanks, Lorelai."

When she came back, Lorelai asked her how things were going with her mother, and Lane smiled a little. "We have tea twice a week, once at the house, once at the apartment. We haven't talked too much about all the stuff, you know," she said.

"Oh, believe me, honey, I know about all the stuff," Lorelai said.

"I don't know, she seems to be coming around a little. She even talks to Sally and Brianna."

"Sally and Brianna—I'm assuming you mean Zach and Brian," Lorelai said.

"We have to call them Sally and Brianna when Mama's around," Lane replied. "And it's become a whole new way of taunting each other when they play video games."

"You lead an interesting life, Lane Kim," Lorelai said.

Lane hugged herself. "Isn't it great?"

When Luke appeared from the kitchen, he took one look at Lorelai's plate and heaved a sigh. "That's what you're eating."

"I'm not hungry. I had to watch old people all day smacking their dentures—long story, but suffice to say I have developed a new devotion to flossing," she said. "God, this place is empty today."

"I know. I'm sending Lane and Caesar home already. Nothing to do but close up. I've got those things for you. For Rory," he added.

"Goody. You want to come over and show me, after you're done here? I can wait," she said.

Lorelai polished off her fries and a piece of pie as the last of the customers sauntered out. She sat at the counter, kicking her feet, studying the shelves opposite her as she waited. The bell rang over the door, and she turned and felt her stomach roll over. The young couple was deeply entrenched in conversation.

"I thought we were going out for dinner," Lindsay whined.

"We are going out for dinner," Dean replied.

"We're at Luke's," she said. "I thought you were going to take me somewhere romantic."

Lorelai took them in, how Dean's arm was around his young wife, the way she turned into him as she spoke, pushing her face into his shoulder. The tolerant smile on his face, the petulant note of her voice. The way Lindsay's hand rested on Dean's middle, just above his belt, pushing against the fabric of his tee shirt. The total ease of their posture. Lorelai found herself sitting ramrod straight, trying to compose her features. Lindsay saw her first.

"Oh, hey, Lorelai," she said. There was no smile in her voice. Lorelai thought she detected a slight sneer.

"Hi, Lindsay," she returned, her own voice carefully level. "Dean."

He nodded at her. "Hey. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. You?"

"Just grabbing some dinner," he said.

Lindsay rolled her eyes. "You sure you want to eat here?"

"I like Luke's," Dean said, and Lorelai noted the irritated edge to his words.

"The salads here suck," Lindsay replied. She looked at Lorelai. "I know that this is like, your heaven, and everything, but seriously? The salads suck."

Lorelai realized she was bobbing her head in response. "I wouldn't know—I don't do the salad thing."

Lindsay gave her an unconscious once-over with her eyes. "Lucky," she said.

They hung uneasily in the door for a moment. Lorelai felt the silence pressing against her ears. "I think Luke's closing up," she said, and her words felt abrupt even to her.

Dean's wife tilted her face to him. "Okay, now can we go somewhere good?" she asked. "Dean?"

He was staring at Lorelai. He seemed to start and looked down at Lindsay. "Yeah. You choose, I'll drive."

The young girl grinned. "Excellent," she said. She threw a goodbye to Lorelai over her shoulder as she opened the door and stepped outside.

Dean paused, and shrugged apologetically at Lorelai. "See you, Lorelai."

"Bye, Dean," she said. She turned in her seat when they were gone and saw Luke standing in the door, wiping his hands on a towel. She shook her head at him. "Don't," she said softly.

"That shit needs a good kick in the ass."

Lorelai gave him a sad smile. "You know, I think he's an asshat, but I feel so sorry for that girl. I mean, it looks like they've sorted things out. For now, anyway. She doesn't have a clue—I'm just—I'm sad for her. And I'm really glad Rory's not here." She sighed. "They're all so young," she said.

"They're grown up enough," Luke said. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm okay. Coffee?"

He poured her a cup, giving her the stink eye, but saying nothing. "I'll be out back."

"I'll wait," she said.

"You sure you're all right?"

"I'm fan-fucking-tastic," she said. She raised her right hand. "I swear it." Off his look, she said, "Luke! I'm totally fine! Go!"

A moment later, Lane and Caesar filed past. She said goodbye to Lane and received a grunt of acknowledgement from Caesar as he left. She rose and wandered around the counter toward the kitchen. Luke was wiping the counter down.

"Hey," she said.

"What are you doing in the kitchen?"

She sidled up to him. "For all the secret nookie opportunities an illicit affair provides—"

"We're not having an illicit affair," he said.

"We really haven't actually had any secret nookie trysts," she said.

"Please stop saying secret nookie."

"Oh, come on, this will be our last chance before everyone finds out tomorrow," she said, taking his arms and sliding them around her.

"You really want to do this in the kitchen?" he asked.

"What, you don't?"

"We're in the kitchen, Lorelai."

She adopted an offended air and backed away. "I am offering myself to you, and you're shunning me because we're in the kitchen?"

"I'm not shunning you, I'm asking if you really want to do this in the kitchen. Where I prepare people's food. Food that people eat," he continued. "I'm not sure this is the best place to grab a quickie."

She burst out laughing. "Who said anything about a quickie? And who uses the word quickie? First of all, I don't do quickies—"

"Noted."

"—and second of all, I'm just talking about good old fashioned groping. What the current residents at the inn would call necking," she said, "or parking, but without the car and here, in the kitchen."

"I got it."

"Oh, oh, canoodling," she said. "Or, better yet—"

"You sure you're okay?" he asked suddenly.

She sighed theatrically. "Luke, oy with the worrying already. I'm fine. Seriously. It's all good."

He put his hands on her waist but wouldn't meet her eye. "I get to worry now," he said.

She smiled, stepping towards him. "Yes. Within reason," she said. "Now, about this whole necking, non-parking-parking thing—"

"You want to talk about it or actually do it?"

She grinned. "Commence with the canoodling, mister," she said.

Luke half-sat on the countertop, balancing himself on his heels, his arms around Lorelai's waist. She wound her own arms around his neck and stood, straddling his legs, her skirt slightly hiked up around her thighs. She leaned into him, loving that she could kiss him this way with her eyes closed, long, slow kisses, kisses like conversation, sometimes thoughtful and deliberate, sometimes silly and light, but always articulate of something greater than what was simply being said. She laid one hand on his cheek, pressing closer as he slid his hand up under the hem of her shirt, teasing his fingers along her spine.

"Oh, my God."

Lorelai found herself suddenly frozen, all motion suspended. There was Luke's hand on her back, his other on her rear. Her she was, leaning into him, holding him to her. There they were together, mouth to mouth, eyes open, caught. Without thinking, they both pushed away from each other, Lorelai shoving herself off Luke, stumbling slightly over his legs as she stepped away, Luke banging his elbow as he rose. They stood, their eyes fixed to the ground, shuffling and guilty.

"Lane," Lorelai said, attempting to adjust her blouse. "Hey, sweetie. What's up?"

Lane stood, open mouthed, staring. She pointed to the back corner. "I forgot my set list."

Lorelai scrambled to retrieve it for her. Luke stood stock-still, his hands thrust into his pockets, his head down.

"I am so sorry," Lane said. "I had no idea—"

"Yeah, well, neither does anyone else," Lorelai said, smiling awkwardly. "No big. Just kissing. You know. Kissing. Kissing in the kitchen," she went on. "That's alliteration. It's a good, word, alliteration—"

"You want a raise, Lane?" Luke said abruptly.

Lane's jaw dropped further. "Really? I mean, no, you don't have to, I mean, I obviously wouldn't say anything, if that's what—"

"No, no," Luke said, "you just—you're a good worker, you deserve a raise, you can have one if you want it," he said. He began to wipe the counter down again as he spoke.

"Seriously?" she squealed. "I mean, that would be great—it would help so much, but I don't know if I feel right—"

"Lane, honey," Lorelai interrupted, "take it while you can get it."

"Done," she said. "Thanks, Luke." She took her papers form Lorelai and turned to go. "You can go ahead back to what you were doing. Your secret's safe with me. Not that there's a secret, or anything, obviously, but—"

"Lane," Lorelai said gently.

"Sorry," she said. "I'll—I'll go. I'll lock the door, too," she said.

The kitchen was silent for a moment after she was gone. Lorelai began to chuckle. She watched Luke, intently cleaning the sink, and began to laugh harder. He stopped and pointed at her.

"This is where secret nookie gets you!" he said.

She pointed back and couldn't speak for laughing. "You said nookie," she gasped. "That was so brilliant," she said. She began to laugh again. "You're a good worker?" she said. "That's the best you could do?"

"Alliteration?" he shot back.

Lorelai attempted to compose herself. She put her arms around him and kissed him lightly. "Kissing induces moronic tendencies," she said. "I'm going to before anyone else walks in and you offer to give them your year's profits. I'll see you at home." She paused in the door. "Secret trysts are fun. Or maybe it's the kissing. I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's the kissing."

"You're the only person I know who keeps talking after the conversation's over," he said.

"Oh, you know you love it," she called as she left.

He smiled, nodding.