5.16 So...Good Talk addition. Right after the door closes on the kiss.

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She pulled her lips away, trying to breath, then rested her forehead against his.

"Luke?"

"I'm sorry," he let out, soft and throaty, breathing pretty hard himself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back.

Eyes closed, they leaned in to one another in this way.

She, feeling the cold outdoors in his old green coat. (It still smelled of mothballs, she smiled). He himself, of coffee and cooking and something else that was spicy and just him.

She breathed it in and felt her nipples rise to peaks. God, she thought and felt. Just, God...

For his part, he felt her warmth and the firm curves under the smooth knit of her clothing and then moaned as she moved into the crook of his neck, lightly, briefly, bathing it with her tongue first before settling in.

"Luke... W-what are you doing here...?"

"Shhh..." he admonished, needing more of the moment.

More of the beating within wrapped in the quiet without.

He tightened his arms around her.

"Okay," she whispered. and sighed, causing him to shiver at her slight puff of air along his collarbone.

And with that, they began to move.

Her hands lifted to the zipper of his coat, as his hands slid up under the back of her sweater, tracing circles, kneading at the muscles.

She started and laughed, "Cold hands!"

"Warm heart," he growled, diving into her neck and pushing his thigh between her legs.

Coats and shirts and sweaters peeled away, boots toed off, and somehow they found themselves moving to the staircase in very little more than underwear and gooseflesh, their warm moist tongues driving them upward.

"Want you," Luke murmured into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck and backed up another stair or two.

"I'm yours," she smiled as he bent to kiss down between her breasts to her stomach, hooking his finger into the black lace there.

"Oh, God, Luke," she moaned and leaned over to kiss down his back; each mole, each blemish, all of him. Every bit. She wanted every bit.

"I missed you," she panted as they finally moved into her room.

"Back atcha," he growled and backed her onto the bed.

She toppled down onto her back and laughed up into his darkened eyes as he stood above her.

And then sobered as he put his hands up to lower his boxers.

But it was too fast. Even her fevered brain knew that.

"Luke, wait..."

He looked up quickly, the question, the irritation, in his eyes.

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"What?" he felt stupid and thick and could only seem to focus on the dampness of the black lace between her legs.

"Now?"

"Yes."

She sat up quietly and climbed out of bed, tossing him an old left behind t-shirt from a chair, then turning her back to him to put on her robe.

She turned back to him and smiled wryly.

"Sorry, I got carried away," she told him. "You're pretty hard to resist, Mister," she added lamely, trying to soften the moment.

He blinked and nodded then pulled the t-shirt over his head.

She looked away then placed her hands on her hips and took a deep breath before looking back.

Faraway downstairs, she could hear Judy Garland warbling, "I was born in a trunk at the Princess Theater..." She pictured her dressed as a hobo, sitting at the very edge of the stage.

And suddenly she was nervous.

"D-do you want to sit down?" she asked.

He sighed and nodded and perched on the side of her bed as she walked to the night stand and switched on a lamp.

He blinked and looked about, willing the blood to flow back into his brain.

"Your room looks nice."

"I've had some time on my hands, been cleaning," she told him and sat carefully down beside him, though not close enough to touch.

He nodded and leaned in to put his arms on his knees.

She turned a bit into him then.

"Luke, why are you here?"

He took a deep breath then flicked his eyes slightly to look at her by his side.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," she warmed and then waited for him to speak again.

He looked down at his hands now clasped between his knees.

"It was a mistake. Breaking up was a mistake."

"Okay."

He realized then that he had put the t-shirt on backwards and wondered briefly when it was exactly that he'd left it behind. And came up empty on that one. He'd slept over many nights in Lorelai's springy bed. Before it had all gone wrong.

"Luke?"

"What?" he looked over at her.

"What are you thinking?"

He didn't know. What the hell was he thinking, anyway?

"That I want to be with you."

He decided on the truth that rested deep in the core of his lower brain.

"You want to be with me?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"Just like that?"

"Don't you want me?" he turned and asked in surprise.

"I don't know if that's the issue," she replied sadly.

"It is," he insisted, suddenly alert, "It is the issue. She said you wanted me. I knew if she said it, when she sure as hell didn't want it to be true, that it had to be. True, that is. That you want me."

Oh, crap.

Lorelai' eyes had slit flinty and cold.

"When who said that, Luke?"

Oh, fuck.

He sighed. "Your mother."

"My mother?"

"Yes, your mother. Emily came to the diner."

Lorelai got up from the bed and walked to look out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. He watched as she breathed in her anger. Her mother. Her damn mother.

Her back still to him, she could only simply ask the obvious question, "What exactly did she say?"

Alarmed by her quiet tone, Luke got up and took a few paces toward her.

"Nothing, really, Lorelai. I mean, not nothing. But, she said that you had made your choice. And that it was me. That I had... won," he winced inwardly at the words.

Lorelai wheeled at this, hands on her hips, "That you had won! What the hell does that mean! You are here because you won? What exactly did you win?"

Shit, shit, shit.

"No... that's not it. You don't understand."

"Then what? Explain it, please. Because, last time I checked you had taken your money and left the table, my friend."

"I missed you. I wanted you," this was not going the way it was supposed to.

"But it took my mother to get you here?"

"You're taking this the wrong way!"

"Gah! I cannot fucking believe this!"

"Lorelai, what the hell does it matter how we get back together as long as we do get back together?"

"It matters!" she yelled.

"Lorelai..."

"Answer me this, Luke; Were you planning on coming over here on your own anytime soon?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Well, that's just great," she bit acidly.

"Were you going to come to me?"

"You broke up with me! I've been respecting what you wanted."

"Well, what I wanted has changed!"

"Well, Luke, that's just swell. Can you tell me, please, what exactly it is that you do want?"

"What?" he blinked.

"It's a simple question," she crossed her arms and asked again in the most reasonable tone she could summon, "What do you want?"

"I want you," he returned.

"Well, that's not good enough!"

"What do you mean that's not good enough?"

"Luke, have you done any thinking, any reflecting about us at all, or have you just been burning food and walking the delicate line to assault and battery charges for three weeks?"

Luke blinked again.

"Just what I thought," nodded Lorelai, suddenly deflated.

And a moment stretched long between them.

"Lorelai, what do you want?" he finally asked, feeling pretty defeated himself.

"It doesn't matter because clearly we don't want the same thing."

"How do you know that?"

She looked at him aghast. How could he not understand?

"What? Do you need me to spell this out? Luke, you seriously cannot be that dumb!"

Luke stared at her at moment, trying to figure it out.

"I think I may be," he finally allowed in quiet defeat, and then slumped a little.

Lorelai stared back at this.

And then her lips began to twitch a little.

Until a bemused smile bloomed a little around the edges.

"Oh, my God. I think you're right. I think you are just that dumb."

Luke flinched microscopically, then straightened up, looked at her, and spoke from his heart, "I don't want to lose you again, Lorelai. Just tell me what to say. Just tell me what to do."

Lorelai sighed and took a step closer.

"Luke, sweetie, I can't tell you what to say or do."

"So, it's too late and that's it?"

She could see the desperation in his eyes.

She shook her head, "Too late? I don't know. I hope it's possible for you, Luke Danes, even at forty, to figure out what your heart really wants and to then find away to say it. But, I can't do it for you, Luke. I can't."

He tried again.

"Lorelai..."it began tentatively.

"What?" she gently urged.

"What do you want? Maybe if I knew that, it would help."

Lorelai sighed and studied him a moment. He was clearly sincere.

And so she made a decision because there comes a point when you just have to.

Where you have to acknowledge that this is how real life works. You have to meet in the middle. Even when that means giving something up. This negotiation for love is something everyone must face at one point or another. For some it came at the beginning, for others later on. But giving up the fantasy must eventually come to all. It's the only way to let the reality in.

And she wanted reality.

She lifted her chin and met his eyes.

"Luke, I realized after you broke up with me that I love you," she ignored the widening of his eyes and went on, "That is the sad truth. What's even sadder is that once I realized that, I had to try to figure out how to let it go."

They looked at one another over this.

"How's that going?" he asked quietly, really wanting to know.

She smiled ruefully, "Not very well."

He nodded, trying not to let his relief show.

"When you came to the door and kissed me tonight, I thought... I mean, I hoped..."

"Lorelai, all along I've tried to let my actions speak..."

"I know that, Luke. I know that. I do. But there comes a time when we have to say the actual words too, honey. If it's too hard to say the words... If we can't consider the future together... If we can't just grow-the-fuck-up and admit we're scared but say the words anyway, then there's no point."

"Just say the words?" he checked as he digested this concept.

"Say them. Mean them. Act on them. It's all the same, Luke. And it can't be because my mother said it's okay. Or because I've confronted you. It has to come from you. I'm almost forty years old, Luke. Cats have visited me regularly. Miss Patty had drugstore dot com FedEx me a state-of-the art vibrator last week," she breathed in, willing the tears back into their sockets, anda laugh away at the same time, "At this point I'm not settling for anything less than the fucking words themselves, pal!"

"Lorelai... I don't know..."

"Go home, Luke. Think about it."

"But..."

"Now," she implored. "Go home before I lose every ounce of self respect I ever had and beg you to stay. Women in love do that sort of thing all the time."

"Lorelai, please, you're making this into something that..."

"Please, please, go home, Luke."

She turned back to the window then, wrapping her arms tightly around herself again, biting the inside of her lip to keep the sobs from escaping, until she heard the door click closed behind her.

Then she leaned her forehead against the cool glass and let the anguish out.

"Lorelai, don't."

His words jolted her as she felt his hands on her waist.

She turned in surprise to see him, still there, a decision in his eyes even as his hands gripped hold of her.

"I love you, Lorelai Gilmore," he breathed out evenly, and met her gaze too.

Looking closely, she see the fear in his rounded pupils.

"Y-you do?" she whispered, not trusting it.

He nodded, becoming more sure with the relief of having said it, "I do."

And another moment held its breath as they let this sink in.

"S-so what happens now?" she asked, her own fear growing even as his diminished.

"Well, I hope to God, we get to have sex at some point soon," he smiled in a small way.

"That sounds good," she nodded shakily.

"And I need you to know that this isn't because of your mother."

"Okay," she was buying it. God help her, she really was.

Who the hell cared about the why anymore, anyway?

"I've been..." he paused and wracked for the word.

"Scared?" she offered.

He shifted his eyes away, unwilling to admit it.

"Confused," he countered when he looked back.

Okay, she'd buy that too.

"B-but you love me?" she checked

"Go help me, but I do. More than anything."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Lorelai, I'm sure," he smiled again.

"Well, good. Just checking... And, I love you too," she said and laughed awkwardly as his smile widened before adding, "But, I told you that already, didn't I?

"I don't think something like that can be said enough."

"Right. So... we're good?"

"Not yet," he told her seriously.

"What? Why?" she looked up in alarm.

"We're not finished."

"Hunh?"

"I just told you I loved you," he stated as though this made things clear.

"Yes..." she looked around in confusion. "I did say it back," she reminded him.

"What kind of man do you think I am?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not sleeping with you until you agree to marry me."

"W-what!"

"You heard me."

"B-but..."

"Well?"

"Just like that?"

"As far as I'm concerned, yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. I love you. I want to marry you. All in."

"All in?" she repeated weakly.

"Yes. I need an answer, please."

She wondered for one brief and evil second if she should make him give her time to think about it.

Nope.

"Then... Yes. I think. No, definitely. Oh, my God. I can't believe I'm saying this, but, yes."

"Good."

"So, we're getting married?"

"Unless you chicken out on me."

"Me chicken out on you?"

"There's precedent."

"You realize my mother is going to think this is all her doing."

"Frankly, I don't give a rat's ass if she does."