One More For My Baby

Eight hours later Lorelai barged back into the diner, again ignoring the crowds and pushing past Taylor to the counter.

"Lorelai, I don't know if Luke's told you, but you have to wait for a table in here now," Taylor informed her irritably, giving the out-of-towners a hard look.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't want a table, then, isn't it?" she answered back brightly, her eyes scanning the diner but not finding the thing she was looking for. Eight hours was a long time to go without…coffee. That's what she told herself, anyway, despite the fact that she'd had seven cups at work. Eight hours was actually a long time to go without seeing Luke, but that was the mindset of a desperate crazy stalker lady, and while she might be a desperate crazy stalker lady when it came to Luke, she wasn't about to admit it.

He came hurrying down the stairs from his apartment, still fastening the buttons on his black shirt and yelling instructions to Cesar. "Be sure to peel enough potatoes for the dinner rush, put that pie I made earlier in the oven in twenty minutes, and if Lorelai comes in don't let her have more than two cups of coffee, or she'll drive me nuts all night."

His head snapped up when he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw Lorelai sitting at the counter.

"Hey, hot stuff," she greeted him wryly. "If I ever catch you limiting my caffeine intake again I'm leaving you, I don't care how good you are in bed."

"Lorelai!" he hissed, horrified, glancing around in the hopes that no one else had heard her. They had, and were all quite obviously eavesdropping to hear the rest of the conversation.

Lorelai just grinned, enjoying watching him squirm, and enjoying watching him, period. The reason she came in, that she wasn't admitting, was because she knew Luke was going to dinner and he would be dressed up. She loved dressed-up Luke, almost as much as she loved un-dressed—

"Shouldn't you be at dinner?" he growled, shrugging into his black leather jacket and grabbing his keys from a peg on the wall.

"Rory's in the car, I just came in for some coffee and some lovin' for the road," she informed him cheerfully.

Quickly he pulled a to-go cup from under the counter and filled it three-quarters full, despite her protests that she needed a full cup to prepare for an encounter with Emily Gilmore. He wouldn't let her talk him into it; he'd had first-hand experience with Lorelai and a full cup of coffee in a moving vehicle, and her ability to aim the hot liquid straight for the lap of the front seat passenger was legendary.

"There's your coffee," he said, shoving it across the counter and hurrying around the other side to give her a quick kiss.

"There's my lovin'," she giggled, because she knew she had a snowball's chance in Hades in getting him to say it.

"And there's the road, which we should've both been on five minutes ago," he finished, searching his pockets for his cell-phone. After a second he gave up, in too much of a hurry to go back upstairs to look for it. "See you tonight," he called as he practically ran out the door.

Lorelai shook her head fondly. He may have protested loudly and occasionally profanely about going to this dinner, but she knew he was secretly gratified that someone wanted his advice about following in his footsteps. And it was family, after all; maybe not close family, but family was family, and that meant a lot to Luke. He was like family to her, and she was like family to him, and she meant a lot to him, and he meant a lot to her, and all of a sudden she was off the stool like a shot, darting through the diner so she could catch him before he drove away and tell him.

He'd opened the driver's door of his truck before she caught up to him, and would have climbed in if she hadn't called his name.

"What's wrong?" he asked, vaguely alarmed but mostly annoyed that she was holding him up.

"Nothing, just-" she broke off, overwhelmed with the enormity of what she wanted to say. He was standing there, looking at her impatiently, and her courage disappeared. Instead she just flung herself at him, knocking them both back against the truck, clutching him around the neck and kissing him like her life depended on it. His hands went to her waist to steady her, but quickly snaked around her back as he returned the kiss passionately. Moments later she pushed him gently away, and he stared at her, astounded.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, slightly breathless.

"A preview," she answered coyly, instinctively shying away from more serious thoughts and feelings and words. She backed away, fully intending to leave him speechless, which generally wasn't hard to do.

He shook his head, a satisfied smile doing its best to establish itself across his face. "A preview," he muttered as he climbed into the truck and shut the door. "You're crazy," he said through the open window, but his voice was full of laughter.

"I know, but someday I'll write a book about it and be rich and famous," she said nonchalantly.

"Bye, Lorelai," he grinned as he started the engine.

"Bye, Luke," she returned. "Bye, George!"

He gave her a quizzical look. "Who the hell is George?"

"Your truck," she answered, as if the green Chevy had a big "My Name Is" sticker on its front fender and Luke was hurting its feelings by not noticing.

"You named my truck?" he asked resignedly.

"Of course, I name everything. The toaster, the chuppah goat, your tool box-" she broke off mischievously, and leaned in closer to add in a seductive voice, "You're lucky I haven't named your-"

"Goodbye, Lorelai," he interrupted pointedly, rolling his eyes and marveling at the fact that yet again he'd allowed himself to get sucked in to another bantering match.

"Bye, Luke!" she yelled as he pulled away, her eyes laughing but her mind specifically ignoring the fact that once again she hadn't told him. But it wasn't a big deal; she could tell him tonight. In fact, that was a much better idea. She'd tell him tonight, and she'd light candles and play soft music, never mind what Rory had said about no violins and sunsets. She'd tell him tonight, and it would be perfect.