Luke stood in the shower, hand against the wall, head bowed. He'd been in precisely this position almost 24 hours earlier.

The last time he'd tried this, he'd been in his own apartment, in his own bathroom, on the other side of the country.

He thought of how much had happened in such a short period of time.

He thought of the look on Lorelai's face that morning when she'd told him about Mia, the way his heart had broken for her then, and the pain the thought gave him now.

He thought of her calling Rory from the airport to giver her the news, the way she had breathed soothing words into the phone to her daughter- only to break down in his arms as soon as she hung up.

Then he imagined smoothing her crinkled brow with his thumb, making her smile.

He pictured her sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating ice cream and gesticulating wildly, telling a story that it never would've occurred to him was worth telling.

Water sprayed the back of his neck. He grinned.

Then he looked down. There was no way this was going to work.

'Okay, pull yourself together,' he thought, his grin becoming a grimace. 'Think about something else.'

He went through the mental rolodex of attractive women he knew, quickly coming up empty-handed. Maybe, if he'd known more attractive women, he would've had more sex in his life. Or, at the very least, more dates.

No time to dwell on that now. He'd been in here almost ten minutes already; Lorelai must be wondering what the hell he was doing. Not even women take this long in the shower.

The second she'd come out of the bathroom in that lacy little slip, he'd known he was in serious trouble.

In fact, he had very noticeable evidence to prove that he was, most definitely, in serious trouble. He'd grabbed his clothes, held them in a ball in front of his jeans, and headed straight for the shower. He knew this was the only way to make it out of the situation unscathed.

There's no way, especially after a completely dry week, that Luke would be able to handle himself appropriately in that bed. Years of friendship and unrequited love were on the line here, his untamable libido could screw everything up. He had to get it out of his system before he climbed into the same sheets with her.

'This is a life or death situation,' he thought. 'I've gotta suck it up and do it.' He could hear Lorelai in the back of his head, giving him an easily-earned 'dirty!'

So finally, he came up with the flight attendant. She hadn't been unattractive. She certainly liked him, which was a turn on. If, in another lifetime, she'd given him a sultry look and motioned for him at the back of the plane, he might have followed her.

And with that, he forced himself to do it. Quietly, quickly and efficiently, he managed to keep Lorelai out of his thoughts for a sufficient amount of time. He closed his eyes and imagined the woman, who's face he barely remembered, kneeling before him. Luke was pulling down her skirt, letting her undo his belt, guiding her warm body onto his lap hastily, pulling up her shirt, a handful of breast, grabbing her soft
thighs, slamming up into her, pulling down on her shoulders. That was enough.

And so, with a groan that was barely audible, he finally came. His body quaked silently with pleasure and relief.

The painful knot that had been in his midsection for days was finally untied. That ache had been there for so long that he had trained himself to ignore it.

Luke's once-tense body was now limp, and he stepped directly under the shower head, letting the stream of water drench his face. As soon as his head cleared, a deep sense of exhaustion seeped in. He felt both mentally and physically drained. He shut off the water and climbed wearily out of the tub.

He toweled off, slipped on his blue boxers, worn sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. Idly scratching his forearm, he stared at himself through the fogged-up mirror and wondered what it was that Lorelai saw when she looked at him.

He'd assumed he was a good-looking guy back in high school, girls told him that often enough, and he'd had the confidence to match. But when he looked in the mirror now, all he saw was a tired, dumpy-looking guy who was in danger of losing his hair.

His father, though, by the age of forty, had developed strong shoulders and tough calluses from years of hard labor. He looked like a man's man, someone who didn't give a shit about anything, someone you wouldn't mess with. He never followed a girl around like a puppy dog, waiting for her to notice him. He took charge. He was too proud to stand around and let the chips fall where they may.

It's precisely why his son had admired him so much.

Luke gazed as himself, taking in his own soft hands, old burn marks on his arm from years of flipping oily burgers; generally helpless around the woman he loved, overly eager to succumb to her every need, trying to make up for his insecurities by being unnecessarily rough with his customers. Letting his over analytical thoughts run his life.

His father never would've taken this. His dad would've marched right in there, grabbed his girl by the wrists and made passionate love to her, would've demanded her attention. Would've made her swoon. Like a real man.

Luke closed the toilet seat's lid and sat down for a moment, deep in thought. He ran his hands over his face.

'But,' he thought, 'all this was dad before mom died. He didn't stay like that.'

Then another thought. 'And after she died, he wasn't useful to anybody.'

'And he wasn't useful to anybody because his heart was broken.'

'So at least,' he concluded, 'I haven't given her a chance to break my heart yet. That's gotta be worth something.'

He felt strangely calmed by this. He figured he was a pathetic loser, but at least he was a pathetic loser with a dream that had yet to be shattered. 'Fabulous,' he thought. 'Now go back out there and embrace the fact that you're a giant pussy.'

He hadn't realized how steamy the bathroom was until he stepped into the clear air of the bedroom. As he'd expected, Lorelai had turned out the lights and gone to sleep; after all, he'd been in the shower for almost 45 minutes.

Luke fumbled around the room, which was pitch black, stubbing his toe twice before finally making it to the corner post of the bed. He waited for his eyes to adjust so that he could figure out which side she was sleeping on. He didn't want to accidentally roll onto her face or something.

But after a few moments, he realized that she wasn't even in bed. The sheets were slightly mussed, but she was gone.

"Lorelai?" He whispered tentatively, straining to make out the shadows in the room.

He heard a sniff behind him and whirled around, realizing she was curled up in a ball on the loveseat. "Please don't turn on the light," she whispered through her tears.

Luke was at her side in a second. "Lorelai, what happened? What's wrong? You were fine when I left."

Her voice was choked, but she spoke steadily. "Rory called me back. She's not coming, she can't make it. But she was so upset, Luke. She was crying and I couldn't be there and that kills me, not to be there for her."

Luke, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how Lorelai was positioned on the couch without fumbling around and accidentally copping a feel.

He finally discerned that she had her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. He put an arm around her, stroking her head lovingly. His other hand had ended up on her far knee, which he realized with some panic, was completely bare. This panic increased dramatically when he realized that, considering what she was wearing when he left, he'd be getting quite the peep show right now if the lights were on.

Luke could feel her staring at him, though he couldn't see her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. I know you hate crying. I'm going to cut down soon, I promise."

"Oh, yeah? Where have I heard that before?" He answered blithely.

She laughed into his shoulder, then raised her head and wiped her eyes. "God, I'm so glad you're here, Luke. I'm pretty sure I'm losing it."

"Yes, so glad I could be here to see that," he replied. He kept his snide tone, if for no other reason than to hide his quickening heartbeat. She'd taken his hand off of her knee, entwined their fingers and folded the hands in her lap.

He slid his hand out of her hair and began rubbing her neck and bare shoulders. "Feels good," she murmured. Luke traced her spinal cord with his thumb. When she shuddered under his touch, he had to remind himself to breathe.

His hands were tingling from his pumping heart, just at the thought of leaning in to kiss her.

Instead, Luke pulled her into an embrace and kissed her temple gently. "Let's get you into bed, huh?"

"Mmm. Bed. Good."

He pressed his hand into her knee and stood up from the sofa. He waited for her, but she refused to budge. "Ugh Luke… I don't think I can move. Maybe I'll just sleep here." She swiveled slowly and began to lie down. "You take the bed."

He froze. His poor heart threatened to stop beating. Disappointment flooded his stomach. "You sure?"

She yawned deeply. "Mmm hmm. You'll probably be more comfortable sleeping alone anyway, right?"

He hesitated, but answered as was expected of him. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Luke turned and headed for the bed, grasping for the edges to anchor him. He still couldn't see a damn thing in that room.

Just as the mattress groaned under his weight, he heard Lorelai's voice, soft and genuine. "Unless you want to carry me..."

He was back at the loveseat in two strides. She didn't hear him, and yelped when she felt herself lifted off the couch and into Luke's arms. He clutched her body tightly against his chest. "Is this what you mean?"

"Yeah," she responded breathlessly. "Basically the gist."

He could tell she was smiling by the way she spoke, and he had to catch the laughter from coming up in his throat. "You want the, uh, left or the right side of the bed?"

"Right, please."

"You got it."

He set her down gently on top of the covers, which elicited a deep moan of satisfaction. "Good?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"Perfect."

He circled the bed and climbed back into the other side. "Why do they tuck in the covers like this? I feel like I'm being mummified."

"So pull 'em out," she mumbled.

He hoisted himself onto his knees, pulling out the sheets from under the mattress. "Lift," he said, tugging on the bedclothes she was weighing down. "Just for a second."

She murmured in protest, but arched her body upward, using her upper back and the heels of her feet to flex her body off of the mattress. Luke tucked her in slowly, realizing that he hadn't done this since… well, since Dean, he supposed, but it wasn't something he'd relished doing since Rachel. It was nice to have someone to tuck in.

He lay back down, fending off the sleep that was weighing down his eyelids. He wanted to make sure that Lorelai drifted off before he did, and he waited patiently for her breathing to steady.

Just as he had assumed she'd fallen asleep, he felt her shift on her side of the bed.

He froze there, lying on his back, concerned that she was crying again. He didn't know if he could handle another round, and wasn't sure what to do or how to check.

Just as he was debating whispering her name, he felt a hand slide heavily over his chest and find sanctuary gripping his side. He held his breath as the rest of her body followed; a leg swung over his, breasts pressed against his chest, a face buried in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He shifted a bit in surprise, then curled his arms around her.

He rubbed the small of her back, trying to convince himself that he had her in his arms.

The smell of her shampoo was overpowering. "Is this okay?" She breathed near his ear.

Not locating his voice, Luke simply swallowed and gave her a mild squeeze.

And with that, they gripped each other tightly and drifted off.

TBC :)