I Wanna Hold Your Hand
Lorelai and Rory crossed the street to the diner and went in, completely ignoring the long line of people that stretched from the front door all the way around the block. The girls unconcernedly brushed past half a dozen customers waiting in the crammed entrance way, looking regally around for an empty table. They didn't find one. However, they did encounter a makeshift sign on a wobbly pole, that read Please Wait to be Seated.
"What the hell is this?" Lorelai demanded in astonishment. This was a major alteration to her significant other's place of business, and she usually expected to be informed of changes such as this. Especially when changes such as this impeded her ability to eat and drink coffee.
"I'll be with you in a sec," a familiar female voice called from behind the counter.
"Lane?" Rory queried, peering out from behind a rotund man who was eyeing Lorelai and Rory quite threateningly and muttering something about "waiting your turn."
"Hey," Lane greeted them breathlessly. "Two?"
"Actually, my wife and I were here first," the rotund man spoke up disagreeably. "We've been waiting for twenty minutes."
"Yes, you have," Lane realized, shooting an apologetic glance at Lorelai and Rory. "Right this way, sir." Lane's ponytail flipped from side to side as she led Mr. Grumpy to his table, and it didn't have time to swing to a standstill before she'd spun around and made her way back to the front of the diner.
"Sorry girls, but popular opinion says you have to wait in line," Lane announced wearily. "I think this crowd might lynch you otherwise."
"But I'm the girlfriend," Lorelai protested, as winningly as possible. "I'm sleeping with the owner. I get special seating privileges."
"No you don't," Luke called out gruffly as he stalked past with a pot of coffee. Lorelai's face lit up; she hadn't seen him in two days. She tried to squeeze past the crowded table in front of her to go and kiss him hello, but by the time she completed her Houdini act all she could see of Luke was the back of his baseball cap- or the front of his backwards baseball cap- heading into the kitchen.
"Good morning to you, too," she sighed in frustration. She turned to Rory and Lane, arms folded and a scowl on her face. "I hate the Meriden Weekly News," she announced grouchily.
"I know you do," Rory said sympathetically, gathering her patience for yet another go-round with the same rant. Her mother had been doing this bit for a week now.
"Stupid weekly newspaper, it's not even good enough to come out every day, no, it sucks so much people can't stand it more than once a week. But does that clue them in? No, of course not. They have to send their damn reporters to New Haven for the "big happenings" going on down there, and then their damn reporters have to have car trouble just as they're passing through Stars Hollow. Then, their damn reporters have to have the nerve to stop at Luke's for a damn cup of coffee while Gypsy fixes their damn car."
She paused to take a breath, and Rory and Lane exchanged long-suffering looks. Lane had heard this rant at least a dozen times, too, since she started working at Luke's for the summer.
"Then, the damn reporter, Linda Bluebell- and what kind of a ridiculous name is that? Named after a flower, can you say dippy hippie, anyone? Anyway, the damn reporter has to write an article on how quaint little Stars Hollow is, like nobody's ever been here before, and how darling the rustic little diner is, and how good the damn coffee is! How dare she! That's my town, my diner man, and my coffee! Putting it in her stupid weekly newspaper like she discovered penicillin, the big-headed, big-haired, big-city Lois Lane wannabe!"
She took another breath; privately, Lane admired her stamina.
"And of course, if that wasn't enough, the Hartford papers had to pick up her cute little article. So now, everybody in the state of Connecticut and their mother has to drive out to Stars Hollow every freakin' day to drink my coffee! Plus, Luke's too busy to see me," she added wistfully, almost as an afterthought.
"Wow," Rory commented calmly. "I clocked that at two minutes and three seconds. I think that's a record."
"I need coffee," Lorelai muttered ungraciously. "And I miss Luke."
"Psst, Lorelai," Lane hissed suddenly.
Lorelai looked at her like she'd grown two heads. "Did you just say psst?" she asked insultingly.
"Fine, I won't tell you that a stool just opened up at the counter, and if you hurry I can distract the tourists long enough for you to snag it," Lane sniffed, aggrieved.
"Bless you, my child," Lorelai intoned, planting a kiss on Lane's forehead and flashing a suddenly bright smile at Rory.
"You're abandoning me? What kind of provider are you? I need breakfast, too!" Rory complained, pouting to the best of her ability and trailing Lorelai to the counter.
"Take a donut to go and be thankful you don't live in India," Lorelai instructed unfeelingly as she slid onto the stool, still warm from the previous patron's posterior.
"Gee, thanks," Rory said sarcastically as she helped herself to a donut from the stand and kissed her mother's cheek. "See you tonight, be good, and don't harass Luke any more than you have to- he looks stressed."
"You're telling me," Lorelai agreed wholeheartedly. "It's no fun to torment him when he's stressed, anyway- he snaps much too easily."
"Thank goodness for small mercies," Rory grinned as she headed out the door.
Lorelai settled herself at the counter, feeling a strange rush of anticipation at the thought of seeing Luke. It was strange, because they'd been dating for almost five months, and while he definitely still affected her in multiple ways, she didn't usually get all giddy just from walking in the diner and sitting down. Maybe that is what my life has now become, she thought gloomily. I'm so pathetic I'm getting diner-thrills. More likely, it was the fact that she was excited to see him, even so briefly and casually as in the diner. This was beyond unfair; Luke's business was now so successful that he'd had to hire four other high school kids, in addition to Lane, just to keep up- even with him working eighteen-hour days. He closed the diner at 10:30, usually having to kick a few stragglers out, went to bed, and got up six hours later to open. He was so exhausted and burned out that Lorelai felt unreasonably guilty in asking him to spend the night, because he'd definitely lose a few hours of the already short supply of sleep he was getting. Of course, that meant that now there was something else he wasn't getting, which Lorelai herself wasn't too crazy about, either. And even if he could manage to take time off, she was finding that she had to work late nights at the Inn, since it was the height of tourist season and they were completely booked. Damn successful businesses, she thought ungratefully. Who wants to make money, anyway?
Not only were Luke-sightings outside the diner becoming increasingly rare, but she hadn't even had a chance tell him about the major revelation that she'd shared with Rory three weeks ago.
'I think I'm in love with Luke,' she'd confessed.
'I think so, too,' Rory had agreed, beaming. 'It's fantastic, and I'm thrilled, but you're telling the wrong person.'
'Pardonnez-moi?'
'Don't tell me, tell him.' And she'd immediately launched into the chorus of the Celine Dion/Barbra Streisand song of the same name, which Lorelai had already detested even before Rory took a stab at it.
Secretly, she'd known for a long time, since a week after she'd kissed him out of the blue in the diner. It was her mother, of all people, who had made her realize it, and she half-thought that the reason she'd kept it to herself for so long was because she hated when Emily was right. Plus, there were those other little things of not knowing how serious the relationship was going to get, or how Rory felt about test-drive Luke becoming permanent-Luke, or oh yeah, the absolutely terrifying thought of actually telling him. Three weeks ago it had come out, and Rory was over the moon, which Lorelai was impossibly grateful for- but ever since Rory had taken every opportunity to ask, 'Have you told him yet?'
The answer was still no, and Lorelai blamed Linda-freakin'-Bluebell entirely.
Luke appeared, trudging wearily out of the kitchen, and Lorelai felt her stomach do a little somersault. I love you, it seemed to say. If Lorelai couldn't say it, at least her stomach could perform it in acrobatics.
Luke smiled for the first time all day. "Today, you are my favorite person in the entire world," he told her.
"Just today?" Lorelai asked, pretending to be hurt. "How come?"
"Because you haven't asked me for anything."
She smiled innocently, batting her eyelashes. "Luke, can I have some coffee?"
"Funny," he pronounced as he poured a cup for her and slid it across the counter.
"Hey," she said as he turned away again, obviously in a hurry. He put the coffee pot down and came back.
"Good morning," she said softly, leaning across the counter. She kissed him, and after a moment when he started to draw away she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back, deepening the kiss regardless of the two-foot wide by four-foot high obstacle between them.
She finally let him go and arched an eyebrow slyly. "So, this counter's got to go," she said conversationally.
"I'll get on it right away," he answered immediately, his voice a little ragged.
"Of course, there are other places, out there in the world, where counters don't exist," she continued. "My house, for instance."
"So I've heard," he acknowledged.
"I miss you," she said simply.
"I know. I miss you too- sometimes I think I'd get to see more of you if I paid you."
"Dirty!" she gasped, highly amused and not a little impressed.
"To work in the diner," he elaborated, shooting her an exasperated look and trying not to smile.
"Really? I think I'd prefer the other option," she teased suggestively.
"You and me, both," he muttered forlornly.
"Can't you try and take some time off tonight?" she pleaded, suddenly certain that something drastic would befall her if they spent one more night apart.
"Don't you have to go to dinner?" he reminded her.
"Yes, but my mother stole Sookie last week," she explained- not very thoroughly.
"Excuse me?"
"She stole Sookie from the Inn for a last-minute catering job, and I let her, so she owes me a favor, and I can cash it in by not going to dinner tonight. Please, Luke, let Boffo or Fonzie or whichever juvenile delinquent you've got working here close, or just close early. Please?"
"I can think of absolutely nothing else I would rather do," he began, but her squeals of excitement were cut abruptly short. "But, unbelievably, I have to go to a family dinner tonight in Hartford."
She blinked in astonishment. "Hah, that's funny. That's a good one, Luke! A Friday night dinner in Hartford, but seriously, what time are you coming over?"
"My cousin's daughter's husband's brother just graduated from business school, and little Trump Junior had the bright idea that he wants to open a restaurant. And not just any restaurant, no. He wants to open a diner, and he wants Uncle Luke, or whatever the hell relation I am to him, to give him some advice. Right now my advice to the kid is run, far, far away from the diner business, and take your girlfriend with you," he grumbled.
"I can't believe this," Lorelai marveled. "The one time I can get out of Friday night dinner is the one time you have to go to a Friday night dinner. This makes no sense at all, and I now need to go rail at God."
"Tell her I said hi," Luke finished the bit, giving her a small smile.
"What time will you be done?"
He shrugged. "Nine-thirty, ten, maybe."
"Okay, then, mister. You are coming over as soon as you're released from diner school, and I will hear no statements to the contrary. Rory's spending the night at Lane's- I just decided- so you can have me all to yourself, to do with what you will."
"Really," he arched an eyebrow.
"Really. Now, what time is it? Some of us have work to do, you know, we can't all sit around here gabbing all day long." She grabbed his wrist and twisted around to see his watch. "Crap, eight-thirty, Michel will whine. I'll see you tonight?" She drained the last of the coffee from her cup and slung her purse over her shoulder.
"Definitely," he replied. "Oh, and Lorelai?"
"What?" she asked over her shoulder as she tried to find a path to the door.
"Buy a watch."
"No way," she said, flashing him a smile. "I like holding your hand."
Just so you know: my scant knowledge of Connecticut geography comes entirely from Yahoo! maps. My apologies to anyone actually from Meriden, all six of you. Also my apologies to anyone named Linda Bluebell, for multiple reasons. Updates coming soon!