Background information and Author's note all rolled into one convenient package: So I read Blame It On Speculation by SassyPlatypus and noticed that, unfortunately, for all intents and purposes the story seems to be on a permanent hiatus and won't be finished. Which is a shame, because I was really looking forward to finding out how this story ends. So I took the initiative and decided to create an ending. Hooray for unilateral action.
I have to give kudos to SassyPlatypus for BIOS. Even unfinished, it's well written and can stand alone as an 'unresolved' work. You'll have to read her story if you're going to read my story, it won't make sense otherwise. If you need a refresher it's logged under my favorites section. The basic premise is the same: would it be possible for Luke and Lorelai to have an affair if they both realized their feelings for each other.
Unfortunately, for one reason or another, I couldn't contact SassyPlatypus so this has sort of become the unauthorized continuation of her story; I just want to tie up all these loose ends—and yes, I do have that much string. Coincidentally, I'm still looking for a beta to proof the story since I've already got it written. Leave a note in a review if you're interested. It'll be on a first come first serve basis. Reviews are appreciated, but I write for the sake of telling a good story so I won't demand them. I find that this way the ones who do leave reviews are the ones with valid opinions.
A note about the layout of the story: it is written in first person from Lorelai's POV. In order to keep the flow of the original story, there is also a second, "more reasonable" inner voice that questions everything she does. So the regular type is the narration of the story and Lorelai's thoughts. The inner voice is in italics. Occasionally italics or bold or both are used to emphasize words. It may seem confusing, but you'll catch on fairly quickly. Also, despite my best efforts, I've yet to figure out 'Gilmore Time.' I did an obscene amount of research to try and put things in order, but it seems inevitable that there will be some inconsistencies or blips that I missed. I apologize, so pleasejust move past it. This is, after all, fiction. Of course, these things might get caught if I had a beta. Hint, hint…
Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls or the characters therein, and I do not own, nor did I create, Blame It On Speculation. I borrowed a couple lines from the episode after "The Incredible Shrinking Lorelais." I did, however, create this continuation of the original storyline. All rights reserved. Title XXVII, sec. 2 par. A. C/O the law offices of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe.
Here it is…a continuation of "Blame It on Speculation"
To explain; or rather, to some up:
"I mean, how do you feel about me?"
"Lorelai!" Luke reaches out behind him and grabs the alarm clock. He turns to thrust it in the air and wave it around in front of me, as if it were a crucifix warding off evil spirits. "Do you see where the little hand and the big hand are resting? Resting! Which is more than I can say for you and me. Especially me.
"It is a quarter to one in the morning, crazy lady, and I am not up for twenty questions at a quarter to one in the morning. And furthermore, after the night we had, one would think that you would be as burned out as I am but I've obviously underestimated you, haven't I?
"Forgotten all about the fact that there's caffeine running through your veins and I guess that's partly my fault for playing dealer and contributing to your mindless addiction but I run a diner you're my best customer and I need the business. Business, Lorelai! I have got to be up in less than five hours to run my business, understand?"
"I understand," I murmur, having processed maybe five percent of what he just said. "Can I just say one more thing?"
"God, what now?"
"I think I'm in love with you."
And the story continues…
"She had nothing else to say, so she said she loved me…"
'Lost Horizons' The Gin Blossoms
1. Bedtime Stories and Morning Memories
"I think I'm in love with you." Didn't see that one coming did you Luke?
He's quiet a few moments and I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He looks a little dumb-founded by my confession. "You think you love me?" He finally asks with the hint of a laugh, as if he thinks I'm joking with him. He sets the alarm back on the left-hand nightstand and looks up at me.
Okay, he's not taking us seriously.
But why not?
It's a quarter to one in the morning and you've been crying all night, that's why. You might want to explain yourself sometime soon. "What I mean is…I…It's—"
"Lorelai, calm down." He shakes his head once and blinks a few times before looking me in the eye. "What's going on?" He asks in a tired voice.
I'm in love with you.
We are in love with him? You don't just think we're in love with him?
Nope, definitely in love.
So you decided—just like that—in the middle of the night? Without even making a pro/con list?
I just saw thirty thousand reasons to love him—and that's only the cherry on top of everything else.
I realize Luke is still watching me—looking a little concerned. And suddenly I'm dangerously close to crying again. The disastrous dinner, the meltdown in the park, the realization that I love Luke and Luke loves me. That last part came in a bolt-of-lightning realization, straight out of the blue clear sky.
Alright George Strait, we hate country music and that was a terrible reference.
But it's a good song; it's catchy…
Answer Luke before he thinks you're bipolar.
"I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed by everything." I sniffle a little and cover my eyes.
God, don't you think you've freaked him out enough for one session?
May as well tell the truth, he knows when I'm lying anyways.
But Luke has already flipped the covers off his legs and is making room for me to sit down. "Come here, Lorelai." He hesitantly takes hold of my left hand and sighs as I sit down to his right. I know he's feeling nervous and awkward and is most definitely freaked out by now. But it's sweet to see him pretend that he's not so that he can try and talk me down from another ledge tonight. "Do you remember when I told you what happened the first day I opened the diner?"
I smile a little. "Yes."
"I promise you will not puke and pass out in the back room when you open your inn. Sookie's your partner, Rory's there for you to talk to, and…I'm here, if you need anything." There's a small pause as he tries to find the moral in the story. "Look, the point is, when I opened the diner I tried to do everything by myself. I mean, I kinda had to do most of it myself, but I didn't ask for help from people who could have helped. I didn't want anyone to know how nervous I was, and it blew up in my face because everyone ended up knowing." He gives a frustrated little sigh and I can tell the words are not coming out the way he wants them to. "I'm just saying that you have people here who care about you, who want to help, so don't be afraid to ask for a little help if you need it. It's taken me a long time to learn that, and I don't want you to have to learn it the same way I did."
I feel like I'm in an episode of Fractured Fairytales. I can't help but chuckle a little through my drying tears. Luke's telling me a story—
About puking and passing out.
Stop interrupting me! Luke is telling me a Bedtime Story—that yes, is a little gross, but has a really good ending. It's absolutely adorable. For someone who doesn't have a way with words, those last few sentences came out pretty good.
Luke seems a little relieved that my spirits are up again. After a moment he squeezes my hand "Hey," he says in a low voice.
I don't trust myself to say anything, so I just look into his eyes.
"Was that a moment?" He asks a little shyly.
He remembered. He remembered that stupid little rant I went on about a moment that wasn't even real. "Yes," was all I could say.
"Good." He looks at the curtains and then back at me. "Do…do you think it can make up for the one I ruined earlier?"
God, yes.
"I think so." I answer quietly.
"Good." Luke repeats, glancing around the room. He shifts around a little and returns to me. "Look, you really should take the bed."
"I'll be fi—"
"Get in my bed." He says with authority.
"Dirty." I grin back.
He blinks as he processes what he just said. "Walked right into that one," he sounds like he thinks he should've seen that one coming. He sighs and says, "Take the bed or neither one of us will get any sleep."
"Why?"
"Because you'll be rolling around on that couch every thirty seconds and huffing 'cause you can't get comfortable." He explains as he gets up and pulls the covers back for me to scooch in.
"I thought I was quiet." I protest as I lay down.
"I thought I was having a nightmare." Luke shoots back as he throws the covers over me.
"Hey! So I'm the creature of your nightmares now?"
"No!" Luke tries to backtrack.
"So I'm the creature of your dreams?" I grin again.
"G…th—is it possible that you get wittier as the night gets later?" Luke is exasperated now.
"It's possible. You've got me so wound up that I might start talking in my sleep." I tease in a flirty voice.
"Oh my God," Luke grumbles. He mumbles what could have been "how nice of you to tell" but it sounds more like "my own private Hell."
I'm in his dreams. My heart flutters a little.
Well, he's in ours; it's only right.
He can't get me out of his head.
Because you can't keep our mouth shut. We're like that 'Small World' song.
Stop bringing me down!
You mean stop bringing us down.
Ugh! I've had enough of you; be quiet for a little while. "Luke." I grab his hand and make room for him to sit down next to me, but he's a little unsure of what's going on. "Sit down, just for a couple minutes." I pull on his arm and he relents, leaning his back against the pillow and the wall behind the bed and resting halfway on the mattress. I want to kiss him but I know I can't; and the alcohol that fortified my earlier attempt has given way to the knowledge that to do so would ruin what has happened tonight. It would be wrong to kiss him because he is not my Luke—not anymore. "Thank you—for helping me tonight." It's all I can do.
"Your welcome," Luke leans his head back and yawns deeply, but he is still holding my hand.
You should let him go to sleep; he gets up at a quarter to five every morning.
I should let him sleep, but now my mind comes back to the original point: that check for thirty thousand dollars. The fact that he cares about me enough to help me get my dream back onto a firm foundation. Why would he do that? I know the short answer: that he's my friend. But why would he be my friend? All the little moments we've shared over the years are swirling in my head and I'm just curious enough to ask him. "Luuuke?" I whisper.
"Wha…" He sounds really tired.
"Is 'wittier' a word?" Way to lose your nerve.
"I don't know. Jess is my resident etymologist and I haven't talked to him in a while."
"Is it possible that you get wittier as the night gets later?" I smile.
"It's possible." His eyes are still closed so he doesn't notice that I'm studying him, trying to catalogue this as another little moment.
"Luke." I whisper again.
"Yes," His eyes open a little
"Why are you helping me?"
He opens his eyes a little wider and releases my hand, and I can tell he's gone from tired to annoyed. "Haven't we been through this already?"
"Well, yes. I guess what I mean is why are you so nice to me?"
"We've been through this too."
"When did you know that we were friends?"
"Wha…" he goes quiet and I know I've stumped him. "Do you want like a specific date in time or something?"
"If that's possible," I try to sound casual, hoping he can tell me exactly when the realization hit him.
"Lorelai, that's not really the kind of thing you can nail down." It sounds like he thinks I should know that.
"Not even a ballpark figure?"
"It was before tonight." He replies in a worn-out voice.
"How long before tonight?"
"Sometime before dinner."
"Could you be any vaguer?"
He sighs a heavy sigh. "Look, we can talk about this in the morning if it's still on your mind."
"But we we're supposed to talk about the check in the morning." I point out.
"But you found it tonight," He counters, and I can tell he's beginning to lose his patience. "So now it won't take too long and we'll have something to fill in the time. But I need to get up in about four hours, and I would like to get some sleep, so go to bed."
"Fine," I pout a little. "See you mañana."
"Please don't say mañana if you don't mean it." Luke mumbled
"What does that mean?" I ask
"Nothing—it's just a little Jimmy Buffett humor. Now go to sleep."
He starts to get up to go back to the couch, but I put my hand over his. "Just a few more minutes?" I plead.
"Fine," He lets out an exhausted sigh. "Just a few more."
I wake up to a mechanical buzzing that is coming from the nightstand to my left. I look around and it registers that I am still at Luke's—more appropriately, in his apartment.
And in his bed.
I swing my left arm to stop the buzzing. A streetlight glows through the curtains and gives the apartment a dim light. I turn the alarm off and roll onto my right side. Luke is still asleep, resting in the same position that he was last night when he promised to sit for just a few more minutes. How can he sleep through that alarm?
You talked his ear off all night. You know he usually goes to bed early on delivery mornings.
I hear a truck pull up outside the diner and its engine stops.
The lettuce delivery is here; better wake him up.
"Luke." I say softly and nudge his shoulder.
He grunts a few times and begins to roll over, but he's not entirely on the bed so he starts to fall. His eyes are instantly wide open and he catches himself on the nightstand. "What the hell?" I hear him mumble as he tries to figure out why he's in this position.
"Luke." I say again, and he looks over at me. I see surprise flash across his face before he remembers what happened last night.
"What time is it?" He releases his white-knuckle grip on the bed and rubs his eyes.
"Early." I reply. "I think your lettuce man just pulled up out front."
"Okay." He says slowly. He stands up slowly and looks around, probably still a little confused as to why I'm the one waking him up. A truck door slams outside and Luke snaps into Diner Mode. He grabs a pair of jeans and disappears into the bathroom for a moment, then steps into his boots and grabs his hat as he walks to the door. Just before he leaves he turns around. "Hey, go back to sleep." He says. "It's still dark outside. I'll be back up later."
"Well…do you need any help or anything?" I ask.
"No, just rest. I'll try and keep it down for a while." He shuts the door and I hear his footsteps fade away as he goes to sign for his lettuce. I roll over and bury my head in Luke's covers. They smell good—a little like the woods—and soon I'm falling back to sleep.
I wake up again several hours later, this time to the sound of a ringing phone. Without thinking, I get up to answer it, cursing whoever is calling this early. I'm almost to the phone before I remember that this is Luke's apartment, and that whoever's calling is probably going to wonder why some girl is answering his phone at eight in the morning. I sit down on the couch and let the answering machine pick-up.
"You've reached Luke Danes, leave a message." I hear his recorded voice say. After the beep there is a slight pause before I hear a woman's voice.
"Hey, it's me. I know you had that lettuce delivery this morning and that meeting last night, but you didn't call so I was just checking to see if everything's okay." I recognize Nicole's voice and stiffen up a little. Thank God I didn't answer, that would've been more than a little awkward—oh my God! How's she going to take it when last night gets out?
Very badly; there'll be lots of pain and blood, and she'll get away with everything because she's a lawyer and knows how to work the system.
Nicole's voice continues on the machine. "I was going to try and come by for lunch if I can so we'll probably talk then, but give me a call if you get a chance this morning. I hope everything's alright with Lorelai and her inn. I'll talk to you later." A click as she hangs up. Oh my God, she knows I was meeting with him! Combine that with the fact that he didn't call… Okay, you know what? I'm not saying a word about this. Luke is going to have to explain this all by himself.
Explain what? That you broke into hysterics, then asked to stay the night, and then tried to jump him after he took care of you. Luke should not have to explain that.
I know he shouldn't, but how would I explain that to her?
Nicole, I'm in love with your husband and I think we belong together. You need to divorce him so I can have my chance.
I would never do that! I'd…I'd at least have a little more tact.
Please, when have we been known for tact?
I sigh and lean back on the couch as I pick up the remote—anything to take my mind off those last few thoughts. But nothing is on TV.
I've been flipping channels and wallowing in my thoughts for about twenty minutes when the door opens quietly and Luke steps in with a mug and a plate of pancakes. He's walking quietly until he hears the TV and looks at me. "Morning," He sets the plate down on the coffee table and brings the mug to me.
"Thanks," I take a long sip and enjoy the little caffeine jolt that follows. My mind shakes off the cobwebs and begins to wake up. "Um, Nicole just called." I tell him as I take another sip before I set my cup down.
"Just now?" Luke asks, and I can't tell if he's nervous about this information or not.
"Yeah—I uh, let the machine get it." I point to the phone and get up. "I'm just; I need to use the restroom, so I'll be right back." I make it to the bathroom and lock the door before I stare into the mirror.
'I need to use the restroom'? That was smooth.
I look at my reflection.
Broom Hilda's back.
My eyes are puffy from the lack of sleep and my make-up is smeared from last night's events. I've got a headache, but not as bad as I would have thought.
Building up a tolerance to the booze, are we?
My hair is a mess and—dear God—are those crows' feet in the corners of my eyes? No, just make-up that's been dislodged by last night's tears. I let out a shaky breath and realize I'm tapping my fingers uncontrollably. Gah! What is wrong with me? Then I hear Luke's voice through the door.
"Hey Nicole…yeah, sorry about that. Things were a little hectic last night. What? ...Yeah, she's having a rough time right now…well, she's had to take a lot on by herself lately and…I don't really feel right talking about this behind her back…I know we're not really 'talking behind her back' but still…No it's okay. Mmm-hmm, she's fine. So you were going to come by for lunch?" There's a little laugh. "Oh my God, you're kidding me? That's hilarious… Yeah, the lettuce was a little wilty so I had a big argument with Robert about whether or not I should take it. Yeah, I finally got him to get a new bunch when I threatened to go to Jackson for all my vegetable needs…well, between the two of us I think we could strong-arm him into keeping the Iceberg since it's so much crisper…Yes, I got it just for you." I heard another little laugh. "Okay, I'll see you for lunch…bye."
I can't believe he would change lettuce types for her!
He's married to her, and he's already changed the menus for her, and you don't eat salads anyways.
So? I like it on my burgers; I like its essence.
Listen to yourself, are you sure you don't hate her?
I know, calming down now. I wash up as best as I can and wait a few minutes before coming out of the bathroom. Luke is sitting against the near arm of the couch, and I can hear a man on the television saying "Next on Sportscenter…" He looks up and smiles a little. "Hey, your pancakes are gonna get cold if you wait any longer."
Thank God, hang-over food.
"Thanks." I say as I grab the plate and sit down to his left. He hands me my coffee again and then turns back to Sportscenter. A man is behind a desk going over several 'key acquisitions;' babbling about ERA's, batting averages, and Spring Training. A highlight of the team standings flashes on the screen and I see Luke frown a little. "Damn Yankees." He grumbles
"I take it you're not a Ted Nugent fan." I say in between bites. Mmm, chocolate chip.
"What?" he asks.
"You know, Ted Nugent. The rock star." I reply, but Luke is still drawing a blank so I try again. "He played in an eighties band called the Damn Yankees. They sang 'High Enough.'"
"Still don't know who you're talking about." Luke said.
"You know," I take a breath and begin to sing. "Can you take me high enough…"
"Oh, that song." He frowns again. "God, I hate that song. There was this punk who came into the diner everyday for lunch when it came out and he was always singing it or humming it and it drove me nuts."
"'This punk'?" I ask him with a smile.
"Yeah, he was a construction worker and a terrible singer and was always talking or making noise or asking questions." Luke was on a tear now. "And he always came in to get the orders for everyone else on his crew so he was there for at least half an hour, more if the diner was busy and I couldn't finish his order right away. And he'd never sit down. He just wandered around the floor, humming or singing that same damn song the entire time. I think his construction crew sent him to get the lunch orders just so they'd have a little peace and quiet." He pauses a moment. "Then one day he just stopped coming; I never saw him again. If you ask me someone on his crew pulled a Happy Gilmore and shot him with the nail gun. He deserved it too."
"How do you know about Happy Gilmore?" I ask through my laughter.
"Because the first time you saw it you and Rory came to the diner and re-enacted the entire movie, putting particular emphasis on the nail gun incident. Plus it was on USA the other night so it was fresh on my mind." Luke returns his focus to the television. I try to make sense of what he's watching, but all I can see is a blur of color and dust and then some guy swings and misses at a pitch. There's another cloud of dust and I hear Luke say to himself "there's a good play" and then the score is up.
"What just happened?" I ask.
"Where?"
"On the TV. What was such a good play?"
"Oh, the shortstop and second baseman just turned a double play on a tough ground ball up the middle." Luke says as if that should explain everything.
I stare at him a moment. "Yup, still don't understand." I shake my head and take another bite of pancakes.
Luke sighs and turns to face me. "Look, a double play means the team got two outs in one play—"
"Like a special." I interject enthusiastically.
"Yes, like a special." Luke's voice has that tone that let's me know he's indulging me just to finish the story. "The bases are here," Luke pokes his finger in the couch and makes four little indentations in the couch cushions.
"I know where the bases are." I huff. "I have been to the Saturday morning softball games, you know."
"Sorry, didn't think you remembered." Luke went on. "A ground ball means that it was bouncing along—"
"Thanks for the clarification." I deadpan.
Luke ignores my comment and keeps going. "And up the middle means that it came this way," He traces a line on the couch's imaginary field. "Past the pitcher's mound. The second baseman catches the ball, then tosses it to the shortstop, who tags the base and then throws it to the first baseman—"
"Who also tags the base?" I finish for him.
"Yes." Luke says.
"Cool, I feel so knowledgeable now. Next time I'm at Doose's I'll ask if they have a double play instead of a special."
"Let me know before you do, I want to see that." Luke chuckles a little.
I finish my pancakes and look into my empty mug. "Could I have some more coffee?"
"You don't need it." Luke doesn't miss a beat.
"Please." I plead.
"It's all the way downstairs." He grumbles.
"Just one more cup." I pout.
"Gah." Luke stands up and tosses me the remote before going downstairs. He comes back up with a full pot and sets it on the table next to the couch. "Here, I've got to get back to the diner." He says.
"Thank you." I say a little flirty.
"Yeah," He seems a little nervous all the sudden and then sits down next to me again. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"No, I mean, after…last night…and all…are you alright?" Luke looks me in the eye.
"Ah, that."
"Yeah, that."
"I'm fine Luke." I say.
"But you're okay?" he asks again.
"Thanks to my knight in shining armor."
"Ah, well…"
"I just needed one big cry and a shoulder to lean on." I explain.
"Good." Luke is nervous again, glancing around.
"Hey," I take his hand. "Thank you. I'm glad it was you." Luke smiles like he doesn't really believe me. "I'm serious." I pat his shoulder. "See? Very strong shoulder. Thank you."
"Well, it's here when you need it." Luke replies. He squeezes my hand and then stands up. "I, uh, I need to get back to the diner. Do you need anything else?"
"A washcloth would be nice." I say, remembering my appearance.
"Sure." Luke goes to his closet and pulls a pale yellow washcloth out. He hands it to me. "Will this do?"
"Yeah, I'll shower when I get home—oh my God!" How the hell are we going to get home?
I'm dressed in Luke's flannel—
And boxers.
And the only way downstairs is through the diner.
"What?" Luke is as alarmed as I am now.
"How am I going to get home? How are we going to get past the town? I mean, Babette is my neighbor!"
"We can wait for a lull in the diner." Luke reasons.
"You mean one of those weird lulls that happen occasionally?" I say sarcastically.
"Yeah, usually the occasion is between ten and eleven-thirty in the morning. You can stay here until then." Luke says.
"And then what? I think people would notice if I walked home wearing your shirt; and my dress is out of commission until I can get to Comet Cleaners." I'm moving into panic mode now.
"I'll drive you home."
"I still have to get out the front door. There's no way we can pull this one off." I feel myself becoming hopeless.
"We'll go out the back. No one can see down the little alley."
"But…what if Babette sees you at home?"
Don't you mean 'my house'?
But I have no time to correct my Freudian slip.
"I've got my toolbox in the bed of my truck. Your porch rail is broken again, right?" He's nonchalant about it, trying to calm me down. He gently takes hold of my shoulders and looks at me. "Stay up here for a while and relax. You've got a whole pot of coffee, God help me, and even though I don't have satellite—"
"Yet." I tease, feeling better.
"Yet, I do have a TV and a few movies."
"You have movies?" I'm surprised now.
"Yes, I have movies." Luke says. "Over by the TV. I'm sure you'll just mock them all so I'd appreciate it if you would wait until I get back downstairs. There's a few CD's too if you really want to look around the apartment for them. Check the drawers or shelves. Just try to keep it down, and if worse comes to worst and you really need something, throw a book down the stairs and I'll come up."
"Okay," I agree. "Thank you."
"And you're fine?" Luke asks again.
"Yes, I'm fine." I smile a little at his persistence.
"Sorry, but you'll be hearing that from me a lot."
"Oh great." I reply sarcastically.
"Hey, I'm your friend and I care about you." He says with the hint of a smile and I remember these are the words I said to him last night. "I'll see you in a while." He says, and then he's out the door.
This story is written and finished, it's just a matter of proofing everything and getting it uploaded. Look for part two in a couple of days or so if things go according to plan.Then again,as we all know, the plan is merely the point from which we begin deviating. But have a little faith...
I was a little unsure about referencing George Strait, but in the pilot when Lane is on the hayride they are playingthe song "Heartland"thathe sings for hismovie "Pure Country" in the background. It was totally coincidental and I didn't realize it until I saw a rerun. I'll take that as a sign that it's okay to throw aStrait reference in the mix.
To Sassyplatypus: If you don't want to see this continued then just let me know. No hard feelings.