5.04 Tippecanoe and Taylor Too episode addition. The morning after.
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He reached over and switched off the alarm, feeling a twinge in his shoulder with the reach. Crap.
It was early. Even for him. And he'd had a hard time getting back to sleep last night after she'd kissed him and left. Always did. Always had a hard time falling back asleep after he'd been awakened.
He sighed, ran a hand over his face, and groaned a little as he got up too. Not getting any younger there, Danes. The damn celebration had gone on too long the night before and the band outside had been directly beneath his frickin' window and, without a doubt, there'd be a godawful mess to clean up down stairs.
In the shower, he mechanically went through the process of soaping up, of washing his hair, and thinking about Lorelai. About her at the door the night before, about how maybe he should have tried harder to get her to stay. He had been asleep. Sure, he'd been asleep. They'd been up late together so many nights recently... He was tired. And it was good to be back where he had his own man-smelling soap and his own bathroom, but still... Ah, hell... He should have tried harder to get her to stay.
Fuck exhaustion. Fuck work. But no. It didn't work that way. They weren't a couple of kids. They had jobs and whole lives apart from one another (though he had the creeping sensation that this was slowly changing) and... They were fine, he told himself. He and Lorelai were fine. Right?
Right.
He groaned aloud then, and plunged his head back under the stream of hot water to wash the shampoo away.
Not many moments later, dry and dressed, he switched on the hall light at the landing outside the apartment door. It cast a sort of amber light. Lorelai had told him collectors would pay big money for an old fixture like this in those salvage places in New York. His Dad would have howled at that....
A million times maybe he'd gone down these stairs in his lifetime, he thought as he descended. Would he always?... Have to go down these stairs, that is. Would he always live above the diner?
Did he want too? Nicole had sure thought so...
He slid his hand on the bannister then, and fancied for a moment that he could feel his father somehow in the smoothness of the wood, in the way it shone from decades of palms smoothing down..
He liked living above the diner, he reflected. He really did. Even with Nicole, he'd stayed over more nights than not here....
And suddenly he had a vision of himself then, so clear that he paused on the step. Himself as an old man. Gray and stiff-jointed. Still climbing the stairs. Alone...
Ah, Geez... I have had a bad night. Get a grip, he thought. And started again back downstairs. Trying to walk purposefully now.
He pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the diner and blinked a bit then. Lorelai must've left the lights on, he thought in irritation., and turned to go into the kitchen....
But, instead, saw her standing behind the counter—?!
A white gloppy mess and the blender, and still more white gloppy mess before her.
"Geez, Lorelai, you startled me. What are you doing here?"
"I had to come clean up the party stuff," she said and bent to peer in at the blender's contents.
He turned then to look back over the room. Nary a banner or button in sight. Not a single strip of crepe paper. He glanced upwards. Not even any little taped torn ends up high near the ceiling.
"Good thing I'm tall, hunh?" she grinned, as if reading his mind
He looked back at her, "What?"
"I could reach to get all the decorations down," she clarified and picking up the large can next to her, furrowed her brow to re-read the label.
"I don't know if I've done this right or not," she frowned.
"What are you trying to make? Other than the mess of course?" he crossed his arms over his chest.
She looked up at him and bit her lip, "A Mega-Man protein drink."
He blinked, "For me?"
"Did you think I got up with the roosters and came to the diner to make one of these disgustingly healthful things for myself?" She poured the gelatinous mixture into a glass then. It plopped in an odd way.
"I...---" he didn't know.
"Seriously?" she quizzed and looked up at him, "You think I would drink this? Well then you can just open up the tiny little door in the clock and climb right back in, my friend."
"What?"
"Try it," she ordered and handed him the glass.
He eyed the lumpy contents, "I don't want to."
"Please!"
Hi sighed and took a tentative drink while she anxiously waited.
"Well?" she demanded, "Any good?"
"Delicious," he smiled bravely.
"Really?!"
"No," his shoulders slumped in defeat, "Please don't make me drink anymore."
"Okay," she said sadly
"It is by far the worst thing I've ever tasted."
"Right, I get the point," she reached for the glass and, after looking at it a moment, took a sip herself, "Oh my God!" she barked, "Horrible!"
He nodded in sympathy.
She set the glass down and stared at its revoltingness a moment, then sighed in resignation and turned to grab a cloth to start wiping down the counter.
"I just thought I'd try," she sighed.
"I appreciate it. I really do," he assured her, "And thanks for cleaning up the decorations."
She looked up at him and smiled, "You're welcome. Sorry about the drink. But, you're right. It should, in no way, be chewy.."
He nodded and walked around the counter then and reached over to touch her forearm, leaning in to her too. She lifted her chin to meet him, and kissed him softly.
When they pulled away, he smiled down at her.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," she returned and wrapped her arms around him, "You look tired."
"I am," he snuggled into her hair.
"Couldn't get back to sleep?" she asked sympathetically.
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"'S'okay."
She breathed and squeezed his middle more tightly.
"Luke?"
"Hmmm..." he said drowsily, happily smelling her shampoo... he knew it well now, that smell...in her morning bathroom... her pillows... his shirts after he left her house... all smelled this way... It was nice..."
"How are we doing?"
"We're doing great," she felt his voice rumble against her head.
"I think so too," she said, "There's just so much we still don't know about each other..."
"I know."
"I mean we're both pretty set in our ways but we're figuring it out... right?"
"Absolutely."
"I mean... is this all too much for you?"
"Is what too much?" his eyes were closed now, his cheek against her silky hair.
"Us? Having different bedtimes. Eating breakfasts so opposite, you could be with penguins and me with polar bears. Yet, we're so in each other's lives now. Is it too..---.?"
"No, it isn't too..---."
"I mean, are you too tired of me and my Broadway Baby ways?"
"Of course not."
She bit her lip, pulled away to look at him, breaking into his cozy, Lorelai-smelling moment."
"So, you don't think 'All in' was too much too soon?"
"Lorelai," he looked down at her, "We've both got stuff to figure out, right? We aren't kids. We've known each other for years, but..."
"We're still learning?" she smiled.
"We'll do it," he assured her, "And, I'm happy. Very happy."
"Me too," she nodded, "In a completely different way, though."
"A good way?"
"Oh, yes," she said definitively.
"Then 'All in' wasn't too soon. Or too much."
"Okay, good," she said and kissed him gently before reluctantly adding, "I have to get home to change for work now."
"Who's going to finish cleaning up this mess?" he pointed to the counter and the protein drink spillage as she pulled away towards the door.
She smiled beatifically over her shoulder as she walked. He sighed in mock anger.
"Sleeping with you is getting me nothing," he groused and reached for a rag.
She paused at the door then and turned back to look at him.
"Luke," she said thoughtfully.
"Hmmm?" he looked up.
"I..." She looked him in the eye, "I think... I think I'm falling in love with you."
He met her gaze and swallowed, "Well... Me too. With you."
"We're going to have to talk about that sometime."
"Yep.."
"And about this little breakfast problem were having," she frowned.
"That too."
She nodded, her smile returning, his answering, and stepped out into the early morning to head home.