Title: Yoga Kills (1?)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Luke/Lorelai. Pre-Series AU.
A/N: Set approximately three years before season 1 and based on Lorelai's conversation with Emily in 1x06. I used a bit of artistic license and a tonne of fluff, just because I can.
Summary: "If I'd wanted to spend three hours in the hospital I would've just tailed that paramedic. More flirting, less morphine."
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"I need one of those mugs with 'Yoga Kills' tattooed across it," Lorelai mused out loud as she hobbled across the street, Rory in tow. She swung herself towards the pavement from the road. "In pink," she added. "In case you want to buy me one."
Rory's eyes widened and she grabbed Lorelai's arm holding her back in order to help avoid the cyclist that sped past at that moment in a blur of colour and damp Lycra. She was really hoping to avoid another day in a cold, antiseptic scented hospital. It hadn't exactly been the highlight of her weekend. She'd intended to spend Sunday re-reading Jamaica Inn and working on a biology lab-report, unfortunately that plan had gone out the window. Limpet length analysis and turbulent love stories had just had to wait.
"You're not dead, so it should more accurately be, 'Yoga Breaks Limbs'". Rory secured her book bag on her shoulder and offered a hand to Lorelai as she struggled to get herself onto the sidewalk.
Rory was on a black ice watch, because while Lorelai seemed to have mastered the art of crutch manoeuvres on tarmac, she was pretty sure that considering the weather, keeping her on slip free surfaces was a very good idea. She glanced back over the square cocking her head in amusement at the sight of Kirk dangling upside down from a tree, attempting to take down the last string of lonely-looking fairy lights from its bare branches. Rory grinned, safe in the knowledge that there were people far clumsier than her mother, and that if anyone was going to get into an accident in Stars Hollow today, it would almost certainly be Kirk.
Having your leg in plaster, from calf to mid-thigh was more cumbersome than Lorelai had ever imagined it could be. She had never been one for grace and decorum, not really. Her mother would have loved it if she had been, but that was a whole other issue. She was the slightly kooky, highly caffeinated one that people never really understood, but liked nonetheless. It was a perfectly good role to play as far as she was concerned. Now she could add ungainly to that list of attributes.
"I hate yoga," Lorelai stated with feeling. "It's the Antichrist. Can I kill its people and burn its villages?"
"No."
"A little torture with bamboo shoots? I hear that's very 'in' at the moment."
Rory ignored her question, "You didn't hate it yesterday. In fact, your words as you left the house led me to believe you were taking far too much enjoyment--"
It was the truth. Lorelai had been perfectly good friends with yoga until about 11:14am. Then she'd toppled, sending at least two other yoga-mates tumbling with her, and cursed like a sailor the entire way to the hospital. Then once she was at the hospital she'd cursed some more, until they had her on enough painkillers to knock out a horse. God bless Vicodin.
"Today is today, yesterday, I didn't have a snapped fibula," Lorelai interrupted, waving an arm at herself in apparent illustration.
"Tibia," Rory corrected her and pushed the door to Luke's open.
"Whatever, I need coffee." She groaned and dropped unceremoniously into a red plastic seat, her leg out straight blocking the path to the counter. Trying to fit an almost three foot long length of plaster underneath the table was simply more trouble than it was worth. She had found this out earlier that morning after a battle with one of the kitchen table legs. The table had won, and she had taken a couple of extra painkillers with her first coffee of the morning.
"You're going to trip someone over." Rory warned collecting a couple of mugs from the counter. Someone had to watch out for the health and safety aspects after all.
Lorelai gasped, a smirk spreading across her face. "No. They can jump. It'll be a competition. My money is on Kirk, I bet there's an athlete buried in there someplace. You have any money on you?"
Rory blinked at her, and put the mugs on the table, "Oh boy."
Luke made his way over coffee pot in hand, finally catching sight of the length of plaster about two paces before he would've tripped over it, and probably sent coffee flying through the window and into the street.
"What the hell is that?" he demanded pointing at the offending limb.
"You're so charming," Lorelai drawled, bringing out her best southern accent for the occasion. Making Luke awkward and disapproving was becoming an Olympic sport to her and she'd not known him more than six months. He didn't prove her wrong. Shifting uncomfortably he eyed her leg with definite apprehension.
He gave a long-suffering sigh and rephrased. "That's not what I meant. What happened to your leg?"
"It broke," she smiled at him and stabbed her finger downwards repeatedly at her empty mug. It was amazing how quickly he'd managed to work out Lorelai's crude sign language.
"So I see." He gave her a withering look, stepped over her outstretched leg and filled the two mugs.
"She had a yoga class yesterday," Rory said, by way of explanation. "She gave the person behind her a black eye. I'm banning her from all collective sports from now on." She rolled her eyes at Luke in despair and took a sip of coffee.
"She did exercise willingly?"
Lorelai pulled a face. "I did, and pretzel chick had it coming," she poked Luke experimentally with a crutch, making him jump. "Crutches are one of the more useful side effects of breaking your leg." She informed him with a grin. "Y'know, I learned how to operate a toaster with one of these babies last night. I don't even have to move to make Pop-Tarts now."
He frowned then turned to Rory. "Is it wise to leave her unsupervised when she's like this?" He asked, jerking a thumb in Lorelai's direction.
"No, but I have school, so what can you do." She shrugged, chugged the remains of her coffee and grabbed a muffin. "I'll see you at four, don't break the other one. If you do, I'm not helping you get dressed tomorrow." Rory had it all worked out. If she can't get dressed, she can't go anywhere. If she can't go anywhere, she is unlikely to break anything else. Perfect plan.
"Aaw, but I can't put my clothes on without you!" She called over her shoulder as a parting shot. "Bye, Hun."
Luke rolled his eyes. He may have spent a moment exploring the many possibilities of a half-naked Lorelai in his head. It wasn't a very long moment. His chivalrous side soon reared its head, making him feel oddly voyeuristic. Naked Lorelai was definitely a 'don't go there' thought.
"Food?" He questioned, deciding that saying anything more at this moment might lead to a conversation he really didn't feel like having right now.
"Bacon, sausage, toast, waffles, maple syrup, more coffee." She listed out the order on her fingers, looking up at Luke with a smirk when she was done.
"Your eating habits terrify me, and you have coffee right in front of you." He protested, motioning at the full mug on the table.
Lorelai's eyes twinkled with glee at the opening he'd unwittingly provided. "Please Sir--"
She seemed well prepared to go on a full 'Oliver' rendition, and Luke looked horrified at the idea of her breaking into song in the middle of the diner. He knew better than to let Lorelai get started like that. She'd probably never stop – make that definitely never stop.
He cut her off quickly. "Don't go there. I'll get you the damn coffee."
Lorelai didn't think she'd seen anyone leave a table quite that fast before. She took a moment to smirk at him marching back and forth behind the counter collecting mugs, plates and stacking up anything that wasn't pinned down. He really did know how to distract himself when the moment called for it. A rare talent, she was sure.
Miss Patty chose that moment to pounce on her, drawing her attention away from Luke and his frenzied pacing. "Oh my God! Are you okay?"
Patty's sympathy was genuine and the exuberant dance teacher questioned her unendingly on her leg and then proceeded to introduce her to the trials and tribulations of dance class injuries, which as it turned out were even more common than yoga injuries. The whole discussion was making her dislike athletic events more and more as the minutes went on. Who knew there were that many ways to damage yourself doing something so seemingly sedentary? She was never letting Rory take up ballet again, that was for sure.
Lorelai was almost relieved when her cell phone went off. She excused herself quietly.
She didn't even get the chance to answer. "You are ze bane of my life." Michel's clipped French accent came out just as condescendingly on the phone.
"I do live to make you crazy Michel," she glanced quickly up at the counter, but Luke didn't seem to have noticed her open flouting of the establishment rules. It wasn't as if she was in a position for him to kick her out anyway, she figured she'd get away with it. She decided she may just have found yet another broken leg bonus.
"Eet ees not a quality to be proud of!" He huffed with impatience. "The boiler is dead, zees place is like Alaska without ze pretty scenery. Eef dere were penguins, my life would be complete."
"We have a back-up generator Michel. It was made with this kind of disaster in mind."
"That would be wonderful, but no one can find eet. Zee imbeciles who work 'ere need a map to find the reception. Finding a boiler ees like asking zem to undertake astro-physics."
"Draw them a map and pretend it's a trip to the north pole, show them yourself, pick one, and do it."
"Zey might touch me!"
Michel's horrified exclamation did nothing more than make her smirk grow wider. "You have my permission to shower afterwards if you must."
He seemed to take that as an offence, and hung up on her. She tucked her cell phone back into her bag.
It was amazing. One morning without her and Michel was already about to have an aneurism. She was almost sad she was missing out on the drama firsthand. Torturing the neurotic Frenchman was way more fun than it first appeared. She had spent her first week of employment at the Independence Inn moving his bookings ledger six inches to the left every day. He was convinced that it was the bellboy's doing. Lorelai had never corrected him, and the poor kid had spent the entire summer he'd worked there hiding from the enraged Frenchman. She almost felt bad for him. Not bad enough to come forward, but at least the thought was there.
The day she'd been promoted over Michel was a day of much rejoicing. Being able to tell him what to do was a power trip like none other, and he absolutely hated it. He also loved to drive her crazy with ridiculous requests and useless questions, like boiler positioning, which she knew damn well he was aware of.
She was broken out of her train of thought by Luke, who was suddenly standing in front of her table. "Why are you still here?"
Lorelai gestured at her leg, "Because the perils of group sporting activities have rendered me immobile and unable to run the inn."
"So you're going to sit here all day?" He raised an eyebrow at her in question.
Lorelai grinned broadly. "That would drive you nuts wouldn't it?"
"Probably."
"Then I'm sitting here all day." She drew out the syllables of all in emphasis, a grin adorning her face. She then proceeded to delve into her purse pulling out a rolled up Cosmo to keep her entertained.
"Wonderful."
"Hey, Mr. Monosyllables, why don't I feel the love?"
"Be real good and I'll find some for you later," he retorted marching back to the counter.
Lorelai grinned broadly as he walked away. Yep, this was definitely shaping up to be an entertaining day. She had to wonder though if the slight dizziness she was feeling was leftover from the painkillers she'd taken first thing this morning, or a direct effect of the dull ache still radiating up her shin. Yes, that was why she was beaming like a loon. It had nothing to do with Luke and his love, absolutely nothing. She'd known him long enough to call him a friend, but that was it. The relationship was strictly platonic, and that was the way it would stay. She was fine with that, definitely completely fine with that.
She distracted herself, directing her gaze straight down to the magazine in front of her. What better to keep her occupied than…'Top 10 ways to please your Man.' Okay fine, way to rub it in, just the kind of article to make the man-less bitter.
Lorelai flicked the page over violently when Luke passed the table with a couple of empty plates. She wasn't sure why, it wasn't like he was going to care.
"Nice reading material," he deadpanned.
She looked back down, while her page-turning had done well at hiding the '10 ways' article, it had also done a stellar job of displaying the 'before and after breast implants' on the other side.
Ugh. Damnit.
Rory was right, she should have grabbed InStyle. It had far less embarrassment potential.
She'd always proclaimed she was immune to embarrassment. You can't embarrass the shameless. It wasn't strictly true. They just didn't like to admit to it. Ever.
Sighing she looked down at her now very empty plate, and decided she needed more sustenance. If she was going to keep sitting here, she should at least have food and coffee in front of her.
Luke meanwhile, had disappeared. Probably hiding in the storeroom, upstairs or cooking something. Just like him to be conveniently out of range when she wanted him.
"Hey, Luke." She called over her shoulder, hoping that maybe he was out of vision, but not out of hearing. Lorelai paused, waiting for a response. "Luke!"
"Luke, Luke, Luke, Luuuke!" When his name was starting to lose meaning to her and the calls elicited no response, she pulled out a crutch, poking a blonde girl sitting at the end of the counter.
"Hi. Could you maybe, pass me a muffin?" The girl gave her an odd look, hesitated for a moment, and followed her instructions. "Lemon, please."
Luke chose that moment to walk out of the back, catching Lorelai's unsuspecting helper lifting the lid of the muffin tray. "Hey, what--"
The girl raised her hands in surrender and sent a pleading look at Lorelai. It didn't take him long to work out where this was leading. He gave Lorelai a meaningful look.
"Well! You we're ignoring me," she huffed.
He brought over the muffin for her himself. "You're high maintenance. Anyone ever tell you that?"
"All part of my charm." She saw him glance surreptitiously at the clock. He was probably counting the minutes left until he could tell her she'd been sat there for three hours. She wasn't far off. "I'm going for a record today. Don't think you're getting rid of me yet." Lorelai failed to mention the dull ache still building in her leg, he didn't need to know.
Luke just rolled his eyes and wandered off. It wasn't like the diner was particularly busy, so she may as well just sit there. It was his 'mid-morning lull' as Kirk reminded him every time Luke kicked him out after spending an hour at a table just to eat his patty melt and a glass of orange juice. Somehow he would much rather have Lorelai sat in the diner for hours at a time, than Kirk. Odd, that.
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Lorelai moved her leg across the floor, hissing in pain. This was an official reminder from her body to her head to take her pain meds, which of course weren't with her. That really was a clever move. In her head she could picture them on the kitchen counter. They were right there beside the coffee pot where she'd left them after taking a couple earlier that morning. The whole lost-item-visualisation skill didn't really help her right now, but at least she knew where they were... if she ever managed to traverse the town and get back to her kitchen that was.
This was only going to get worse, which meant unless she wanted to be in extreme pain for the rest of the day, she was making her way back home. She was seriously considering amputation as an alternative right now. Luke probably kept a meat cleaver in the back somewhere, right?
She gripped the edge of the table, shifting her leg out of the way, her knuckles turning white at the ferocity of her grasp. One little baby-step at a time, was the only way this was going to get done. It was like little stabbing needles in her leg. Not an experience she would wish on anyone. It was like having several hundred small rodents poking her repeatedly with rapiers. Now she was having flashbacks from a children's book she'd read with Rory when she was six. That was never a good sign.
Finally putting her weight on the leg she nearly didn't stay upright, the intense shooting pain up her leg wasn't going away anytime soon. She bent almost double eyes screwed shut for a moment as if that would help somehow. Lorelai was left considering if she'd actually be able to make it home without passing out. It was she decided, pretty hit and miss, and if she missed she'd probably end up lying face down in a muddy, slushy, once-was-snow puddle half-way down Peach. It was just the way her week was going so far.
"You cannot walk home like that." Lorelai looked up from the grey linoleum, which she had been staring blankly at in the hopes it would supply her with a plan, and was immediately met with the sight on Luke's crotch at eye level. She jerked back upright at lightning speed. Then cursed herself for it just moments later. Both because it jarred her hip re-igniting her friendly shooting pain and because she hadn't even had the chance to get a good close look while she could blame pain and insanity. What? She couldn't be just a little bit shallow?
"Mice with swords, mice with swords," Lorelai muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the pain, and regain some sense of balance. Balance, that was what got her into this predicament in the first place. There were just not enough words in the English language that expressed how much this sucked. Maybe she should get her ears checked. They had something to do with balance. "Do you know a good ENT specialist?"
"You cannot confuse me out of this, you can barely stand." Ignoring him Lorelai walked her hands slowly across the table, still using it to support her weight. "Stop that." He grabbed her waist, stilling her surprisingly effectively.
Luke kept his hands on her hips eyeing her with disbelief. "You are not walking home like this." He certainly was determined, she'd give him that.
She bit her lip against the pain, shifting her leg and gripping his forearm with a free hand. Nice arm. "You kidding? I'll be like Tarzan, swinging from lamppost to telephone wire, crossing puddles in single bounds. Never doubt m--" She gasped, and leaned down fully onto the table again, using it as a prop on her way to the door and wincing noticeably as she did so. Luke's hands went back to her waist to steady her. "The happy pain-massacring pills are at home. I need to be home. This is for your own safety, I promise."
"--and this is for your safety. Don't argue."
Giving in on a fight was definitely not the Gilmore way. Under normal circumstances Lorelai would in her element right now. She could keep up verbal sparring with Luke for hours if necessary. It was enjoyable. He could often keep up with her complete non-sequitors where many others couldn't. Her pop-culture references went totally over his head, but you can't have everything. She had come to the conclusion that there was no such thing as the perfect guy. You couldn't have it all in the one nice neat man-package. Ooh. Man-package. Dirty.
"Sit." Luke grunted, pointing at the nearest free seat. "Give me a minute here, and I will drive you home. I would rather you didn't die of hypothermia between here and home, might lay into my conscience."
Lorelai sighed, the trademark Gilmore obstinacy had been officially worn down. The combination of the pain, and Luke's stubborn insistence that she was incapable of doing a simple thing like walking the five minutes to her home had done to her what nothing else had done before. "—But" she started feebly; trailing off before she'd really thought of what she was intending to follow it up with.
"Sit."
She grudgingly followed his orders. The idea of standing on that leg was getting less and less appealing by the moment. Plus she wasn't really up for the argument that objecting would obviously result in.
Stupid yoga. Stupid mice.
